


In My Heart, In My Head

by ninathena



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Smut, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Infidelity, Future Fic, Grounder Culture, Heavy Angst, Hurt Bellamy, Just All the Unresolved Tensions, Kid Fic, Lots of Death Coming, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character Death(s), Seriously So Much Angst Y'all, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4190349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninathena/pseuds/ninathena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Clarke leaves Camp Jaha she hides herself away, eventually making a place for herself as a healer in a village of Luna's Water Tribe. Ten years later, she is forced to face her past, and the people she left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desolation and Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Okay lovely readers, I know my summary says ten years later but that doesn't actually start till chapter two. First we get smut... lots of smut. Like, I'm not even joking, this is pretty much just 4500 words of angsty smut. Your welcome. Hopefully it's good. This is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Story title is brought to you by Meg Myers. And I hope you enjoy!

Desolation and Devotion

She tastes different than he thought she would. But then again, this is not how he imagined their first kiss – full of blinding anguish.

He wants her, _has_ wanted her for a long time, or maybe not that long – once again he’s amazed when he remembers that they’ve only been on the ground less than two months – but he doesn’t want her like this, grabbing and clawing her way into him not because she’s desperate to be closer to him, but because she’s desperate to escape her pain.

She’s only using him, and if he were the same man he was two months ago he’d be more than happy to let her. Probably even smirk and say something awful like, how he knew she wanted him, or how it was only a matter of time before she came begging for it.

But he’s not the same man anymore. Nowhere near.

And that’s because of her and the forgiveness she so freely gave him.

And so he’s tried to become someone who deserves her forgiveness. He’s sacrificed himself for the good of others, tried to do right by their people, and asked for nothing in return. And somewhere during all that he fell for her. Hard. Her strength, perceptiveness, and intelligence pulled him in, and then, when even her condescending attitude began turning him on, he knew he was lost.

So yes, he wants her. But he wants _all_ of her. The good _and_ the bad, the beautiful _and_ the ugly, the absolute perfect and the totally screwed-up. And he _knows_ some quick fuck up against a wall won’t be anywhere near enough – knows it will probably ruin any kind of chance they might have together.

His thoughts help him to break away from her brutal kiss.

“Clark,” he croaks, before she attacks his throat – all teeth and lips and fucking amazing tongue – making him unable to remember his own name, much less whatever the hell he was about to say. But he somehow finds the strength within himself to gently push her away, detaching her beautiful mouth from his overheated skin, and he’s able to regain some kind of brain function.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says tenderly. He doesn’t want to hurt her – doesn’t want her to think he’s rejecting her.

She stares at his chest before finally meeting his eyes. The angry determination he finds in hers almost scares him.

She steps away and removes her shirt and bra with a blank face – as if she’s not showing him the most stunning sight. And he watches – of course he does – as her breasts rise and fall with her rapid breath. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about them, fantasized about them – even in the beginning when he couldn’t stand her. He’s only human after all, and they’re fucking gorgeous even covered in a ratty shirt.

He swallows before looking back up to her face. He’s no longer sure if he’s strong enough to stop this train wreck from happening.

“Take off your clothes,” she says, firmly.

Suddenly his blood’s gone cold, and he’s pulled back to a time, not so long ago, when another girl was demanding the same thing from him… to help her forget the pain of losing the same boy.

Because dammit, that’s what he is- _was_ , wasn’t he. Finn – he was just a boy. The kid annoyed the living shit out of him, and they rarely agreed on anything, or even got along for that matter, but he was one of the 100. He was one of Bellamy’s people. And Bellamy had done everything he could to keep him alive – and now he’s dead. A seventeen year old boy is _dead_ – executed.

And he’s _jealous_ of him.

A deep-seated feeling of self-loathing rises up within him. She would never be with him if Finn were here, he morosely thinks. But then he remembers that hug. How she practically attacked him, throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder, holding him tight, even while he was too surprised to reciprocate.

He stares into her cool blue eyes – usually so full of life, but now so cold – hoping he can silently show her with _his_ eyes that his rejection has nothing to do with her, not really, just that the situation they’re in right now is really fucking shitty – as always.

He shakes his head slightly. “We’re not doing this.” It comes out even harder than he’d wanted and he sighs, hoping he didn’t hurt her. But it’s already too warm again as he stands there, crowded between the wall and her half naked body. He just needs space. He needs to get out of this damn room – which anyone can walk into at any moment, he realizes. So he slips away and starts making his way towards the exit.

“Please. Please, don’t leave me,” she whispers.

He stops but he doesn’t turn around – only listens to her as her voice breaks his heart.

“We could die,” she says, voice cracking.

He thinks she’s crying but he’s too terrified to turn and find out – he’ll never be able to leave if he does.

“You could die,” she whispers, “and I-“ She stops here and he waits for her to finish. But she doesn’t, and he needs to know. He needs to know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling, why the hell she’s doing this to him.

“What?” His voice sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel, and he hates how easily it reveals the emotional upheaval inside him. “You, what?”

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, the room filling with a thick silence, and he thinks if his body weren’t so attuned to hers he probably would’ve assumed she’d left.

But then she finally speaks.

“You could die,” she repeats, her voice much firmer, “and I need you.”

I need you.

He drops his head and releases a quick breath, unable to stop the physical reaction his body has when she says those words. The same words she gave him before – the same words that made him _stay_ before.

He chose to stay the night Dax tried to kill them, and after that, the change in their relationship was so quick it nearly made his head spin, adversaries who were sometimes begrudging allies, to co-leaders with the utmost respect for each other. Even now things were different – ever changing. They were more than just friends. But not lovers. What they have is something deep that he doesn’t know how to describe. She’s his partner in nearly every sense of the word. He believes in her, trusts her, respects her, _needs_ her.

He needs her.

In this extremely fucked up world he needs her, just like she needs him, and he hopes and prays that if he gives in right now it will somehow mean something to her. And perhaps their relationship will change yet again, and one day, he’ll be able to say the words that he’s certain she’s nowhere near ready to hear from him right now.

Just like that he’s made his choice, and there’s no going back or pussyfooting around. He turns abruptly, quickly makes up the short distance between them, and grabs the back of her head, fusing their lips together.

She’s so shocked she lets out a sort of gasp n’ moan that he swears travels straight down to his cock. He wants to hear more of that, every breathy moan and sharp cry – or please God, his name – and he feels suddenly bound and determined to pull them out of her.

But she has other ideas as she firmly grips his jacket and turns them around – and when the hell did she become so much stronger than him, he wonders. Or maybe he’s gotten weaker. He doesn’t have much time to think anymore on the subject when she suddenly pushes him away from her and he all but stumbles into a chair.

He’s breathing heavily, looking up at her – first in shock, then in lust, when she looks him straight in the eye and he sees hunger there. She takes a deep breath before moving her hands to the front of her pants, trembling fingers unbuttoning and unzipping, before pushing them down her legs. He can’t seem to do much more than just watch her as she casually strips in front of him.

Her panties, which are gray and frayed, are just standard Ark underwear – nothing at all like the skimpy, slinky things he’s seen in the few vids he was able to get ahold of on the Ark – but he can’t help but think how sexy she looks standing in just them and nothing else.

But soon those are gone too as she unceremoniously drags them down, no swaying or slowing – she’s not trying to seduce him, and he’s not sure if that’s good or bad. But it no longer matters as he takes in the sight before him.

She’s just… perfect. Her body is soft and smooth – full of curves he wants to grab and silky skin he wants to run his tongue down. Then out of nowhere, he’s caught with a strange fear that if this doesn’t have a happy ending, it will ruin him – _she_ will ruin him. And he’s never been so afraid of anyone in his life.

But it falls to the wayside when she bends over and takes his top lip between hers, while trying to take off his jacket. He helps her, ripping it off his arms as fast as he can, so he can put his hands to much better use, like pulling her forward to straddle his lap. He’s hard under her – though still painfully confined under layers of clothes – and when she grinds down on him, he moans her name against her lips.

She breaks away and he chases her lips till she gently pushes him back. He pants and she watches him. He should’ve known she’d be controlling in bed. His gaze is locked with hers as she lowers her hand and begins rubbing him through his clothes. He groans and leans his forehead against hers as one hand cradles her face and the other grips her hip. Their breath mingles together and all he can think of, besides the glorious friction she’s giving him, is, _please don’t stop_.

He snakes his own hand down before trailing it up her slit. It’s a barely-there touch, but she moans so loud he wonders just how craved for touch she is – wonders how many times she and Finn were together before Raven came down. Then he wonders how many times she’s done this at _all_. And if he knows her – and he likes to think he does - he guesses probably not too often. The thought sends a strange thrill through his body.

He begins leaving a trail of wet, messy kisses along her jaw and down her neck, nipping at the skin here and there. He moves his fingers back to her slit, pushing a finger past her lips. She’s wet and hot, and he’s not really capable of much thought other than that, as she sinks her nails into the back of his shoulder with one hand, and grips his hair with the other. He pushes further into her and she’s so fucking tight. He snaps his eyes shut, breathing heavily onto her neck, trying not to moan at the thought of how amazing it will feel to truly be inside of her.

When he slowly begins sliding his finger in and out, she lies her head on his shoulder, her hot, panting breath fanning across his ear. She starts getting more comfortable he guesses, because she eventually begins moving her hips in synch with his finger. He takes that as a good enough sign to add another and it only makes her move harder against his hand.

His thrusting becomes faster, and he pushes his fingers in deeper, and she’s letting out little whimpering noises, and he thinks all he really wants at this moment is just to watch her fall. He wants to see her face full of euphoria that _he_ gives her. He hopes maybe if he makes this an explosive experience she’ll come back to him – she’ll _stay_ with him.

He pauses in his thrusting to drag his soaked fingers up to her clit and she jerks her hips in response, gasping in his ear. He gently begins rubbing her, and her fingers tighten their hold on him.

“Bellamy,” she sighs, against him, and his heart skips a beat. It scares him just how much hearing her say his name unravels him. He’s not entirely sure how he’s going to survive this.

He continues in his ministrations, fingers pumping and thumb rubbing, taking his time to watch her face and listen to her moans. He wants to learn her body and all the secrets it holds. He moves the hand he has on her hip to her right breast, lightly squeezing and kneading the soft, generous flesh. Her pale skin against his darker hand captivates him, causing a pang of lust to shoot through his body, and he squeezes harder, thrusts his fingers faster. The wet sound they’re making, as he plunges them rhythmically inside her, is downright obscene and it makes his mouth water to taste her. He wonders if that’s something she’s ever experienced – wonders if that’s something she’d ever let him do.

She’s whining now, and it’s a noise he never would’ve attributed to her, but he fucking loves it. Her hips are rutting above his hand and her neck and chest are flush. He circles his thumb round the soft, pink areola, avoiding the peaking nipple that’s begging for attention, while brushing his other across her swollen clit.

Her noises, as beautiful as they are, are becoming loud and he’s afraid someone will hear them – the last thing they need is one of Lexa’s men walking in on them. “Shhh,” he slowly whispers against her ear, before placing a soft kiss behind it. She grips him with her nails again and it’s painful – it’s perfect.

“Bellamy,” she breathlessly moans – pleads.

He slows the pace of his fingers before stopping completely, and she whimpers as he pulls them out, her tight walls contracting around them – trying to keep them in. He finally brushes his thumb across her sensitive nipple, then does the same to the other, his fingers wet with her arousal.

She rubs herself against his crotch, desperate for some kind of friction, making them both moan into each other’s open mouths. He licks her bottom lip and she catches his tongue between her own, kiss swollen lips, sucking on it before brushing it with hers. It’s all very erotic and it has him so distracted that he doesn’t notice her hand slipping down, opening his pants.

Their faces are pressed together with their eyes closed, noses rubbing, and lips sliding from all the saliva as they pant against each other. He grunts as her fingers brush against him, trying to free him from beneath his boxer briefs. When he’s finally freed, jutting up from between his fly, she looks down at him and begins tentatively running her fingertips along his shaft. His breathing is ragged as he tries to keep himself under control – he usually has good stamina, but this is _Clarke_ , and being with her like this makes him feel like he’s an inexperienced teenage boy again.

He takes a deep breath, releasing it from his nose, watching as it makes her blonde strands sway around her beautiful face.

Suddenly she pops her thumb in her mouth before bringing her hand back down to encircle him, then uses the saliva coated pad of her thumb to rub against the sensitive skin just below the head.

“Clarke-,” he gasps, twitching against her finger. He clenches his jaw, unsuccessfully trying to hold back the moans. Any kind of control he thought he’d regained goes right out the window as his mind goes white with pleasure. She leans forward, her thumb still gently rubbing, and kisses him, it’s not messy or erotic, it’s just a chaste meeting of lips, and it’s such a sweet, caring gesture it causes his throat to tighten and his eyes to burn. He doesn’t want her to see though, so he buries his face in her neck till he has control over those particular emotions.

After a few more glides of her thumb he stops her. He places one of his hands on her lower back and the other under her arm. Their eyes are locked, the heat they exchange making his cock throb harder. He lifts her up till she hovers above him, her toes on the floor and her hands holding on tightly to his shoulders. The look on her face is indecipherable – scared, excited, sad. He can’t tell and he’s not sure he wants to, too afraid to find out what they mean.

He slides his hand up her smooth back as he steadily releases his hold, and she slowly glides down. Then he can feel her as she begins to take him in and it’s just… everything, he never knew, he always wanted.

The deeper his cock sinks into her, the wider her mouth gets, releasing spurts of her hot breath on his face.

After she’s fully enveloped around him, neither of them move. She’s warm, and wet, and so _tight_ as he throbs within her. She licks her lips between her ragged breaths, the sight making him twitch inside her, which makes her walls clench around him.

She seems suddenly self-conscious about their position – hesitant to make the first move – so he gives her another moment to adjust before finally placing both hands under her arms and helps lift her, before slowly bringing her back down again.

He sets a slow, comfortable pace and looks up to watch her – her furrowed brows, as they lift her up, and the ‘O’ shape her beautiful mouth forms, as she slides back down. Soon his arms are doing less of the lifting and her trembling thighs begin doing most of the work. She’s moving faster above him, becoming more comfortable as she starts to chase her release.

The room is filled with grunts, and moans, and whimpers – and he thinks he can faintly hear the sound of the chair beneath them as it rhythmically creaks in protest.

She’s grasping his hair, pushing his face to her body, and holding onto him for dear life. _His_ hands find purchase on her back, then he snakes one between their bodies to give attention to her throbbing clit, once more. She bites his shoulder, but he can still hear her muffled cry, stuttering in her movements and rolling her hips against his. He thinks she’s almost there, and he can’t wait to see it.

He bends his head while holding up a breast, taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling it before gently pulling it with his teeth. The clutching fingers in his hair hurt, but he releases her nipple with a wet pop and leans his head back anyway – he’s absolutely determined to see this.

When she finally comes, it’s with a few loud whimpers, her eyes shut tight, her nose flaring, and her mouth opened wide. She leans forward, trying to hide her face against him, to ride out her release, but he holds her back, cradling her head in his hand, rubbing his thumb across her bottom lip. He watches the blush as it rushes from her cheeks, to her neck, and down to her chest – sees the euphoria that transforms her body into something ethereal. It’s a spectacular sight that will forever be burned into his brain.

They’re both breathing hard, and after a long moment she opens her eyes and finally looks at him, her eyes glazed and her faced relaxed.

He takes hold of her sides, rubbing his thumbs along the underside of her breasts, just relishing being able to touch her in a way he’s wanted to for so long. He wants to touch her like this forever, but he can already tell she’s getting restless and he doesn’t want to lose her yet.

He stands, and her legs automatically wrap around his waist, while her muscles still contract around him. He sets her on the table – the same table where just hours before they tried to solidify an alliance before all hell broke loose.

She kisses him hard, squeezing her legs around him. She pulls at his shirt and he breaks their kiss to quickly remove it. She begins leaving kisses along his jaw, making her way down till she finds his pulse point, worrying the skin between her teeth then soothing it with her tongue.

The sensations are all al little too much while still hard inside of her, and he grabs her hips, thrusting roughly against her. She squeaks in surprise, and he grins at her sweet, yet angry face. Her brows are furrowed and she looks fairly pissed at the treatment, but he thinks she’ll forgive him soon enough.

Placing a hand on her chest, he gently pushes her down till she lies flat on the table. She looks like an offering, he thinks, wantonly laid out like a dish for the taking – and he will definitely be taking her. Without warning, he begins a sudden, fast pace, and her moans catch in her throat. He watches in fascination as she bites her lip and tries to find something to hold onto. Her hands eventually find purchase at the opposite edge of the table, arms stretched out above her head, pushing up her beautiful breasts as they bounce with each thrust.

She’s a fucking awe-inspiring sight and he’s not sure he’ll last for much longer. It’s a bittersweet feeling as he chases his release, and it almost throws him off as he worries about what they’ll become when this is over, what she’ll _let_ them become. He tries to push it away but the unhappy thoughts come unbidden, so he focuses on her as she lays beneath him, moaning and crying out in ways he’s only dreamed of, as he’s buried deep inside her.

He places a hand next to her head, leaning forward on it, changing his angle and making her dig her heels harder into his ass. She grasps the arm that holds him above her turning her face into it, almost like she’s desperate for skin-to-skin contact.

He leans further down, kissing her ear. “Touch yourself,” he demands, his voice deep ad hoarse. She moans before releasing her other hand from the table, and trailing her fingers down between their bodies. She gasps and cries out and soon he feels something wet sliding between their faces, he realizes they’re tears. They’re _her_ tears. And he slows as he looks down at her face. It’s red and splotchy and she’s all but sobbing with her face still pressed against his arm.

“Clarke,” he says, his voice full of concern.

He stops moving, worried that he’s hurt her, but she squeezes her legs harder around him as her eyes light up with panic.

“No! Please! Please, don’t stop,” she cries.

“Clarke-“

“Please, don’t leave me.”

There’s a pain in his chest and a burning in his eyes, as he tries to hold back tears of his own while he watches her break.

“Bellamy,” she pleads, “please don’t go.”

He takes a few breaths before he helps her sit up, and he cradles her face as she clings to his arms. “I am not going anywhere.” He looks hard into her eyes, making sure that she believes him. “I won’t leave you.”

_“I can’t lose you, too. Okay?”_

It had caught him off guard, surprising him into silence. She rarely showed any type of vulnerability and he hadn’t known what to do with it. He knows now. Knows that he’ll give her whatever she wants. Not just because of the way he feels about her, but because she deserves it. She deserves someone looking out for her. She is singular, doing what no one else can, what no one else _will_. He will follow her and protect her, until he no longer breathes.

Tears are still sliding down her face, but she looks calmer after he kisses her. Her lips tremble and he can taste her tears but the sweetness of it almost feels perfect.

She wraps her arms around his neck and she rolls her hips. A sigh escapes his lips as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. When he starts again, his pace is quick but less rough. He grips her thigh as he pushes himself into her, grunting and crying out into her ear. He feels it as she slides her hand back down to her clit.

“Good, girl,” he croaks. “Touch yourself, baby.”

She’s whimpering and crying and he hopes it’s from pleasure.

He’s not sure he can hold out much longer – he’s lasted so long already – so he decides to talk some more because she seems to respond well to it.

“God, Clarke. You’re so beautiful.” His thrusts are becoming slower but deeper, more erratic, and he grips her thigh tightly knowing he’s probably leaving behind bruises. He hopes he is, he wants her to think of this, think of _him_ , whenever her pants come off.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunts, “I can feel it.” She moans in what sounds like agreement and her walls begin fluttering around him. “That’s it,” he says breathlessly, as she cries out. Her muscles throb around him, squeezing and clutching in the most blissful way, and he can’t really stop the noises that escape his mouth during his last few thrusts as he spills himself within her.

Their rapid breathing and the blood rushing through him are the only things he seems to hear. He rubs a thumb across the angry marks and bruises he’s sure that he left on her thigh, and she sighs against his temple. It sounds happy and satisfied and his heart feels lighter thinking that maybe she feels it too – that simmering intensity and deep devotion between them that has no words. And when she nuzzles his face, he feels hopeful that she won’t run away from it.

xxxxxxxxx

Later that night, when she tells him to leave – tells him his life is worth risking – he’s sure that Octavia and Raven can feel the pain that must be coming off him in waves. He tells himself that he was a moron for ever thinking he deserved her. There is no reward for redemption – he supposes it’s, its own reward – and he will have to pay the price of hurting others for the rest of his life. His life _is_ worth risking, because it’s the price he must pay for having once thought so little of the lives of others

She must know all that too, he thinks, as he lies awake that night, unable to sleep from both the pain that sits heavy in his chest from her indifference, and the fear roiling inside his gut at what he will face in the mountain. Lying there, staring up at the sky he fell from, he couldn’t really say which was worse.


	2. The Absence of Fear, it is Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of important author's notes:   
> -Things may be a little jarring because chapter one is a little different than the rest of the chapters. (cool factoid) chapter one was written AFTER a lot of the other chapters so, that's probably part of it.  
> -We are now officially 10 yrs. in the future.  
> -I do not speak trigedasleng (grounder) and I'm not even gonna try, because it would just be embarrassing, so words that are just in italics are a character's thoughts, and words that are italicized inside quotations, are being spoken in trigedasleng, which I'm too lazy to learn for my fanfictions.  
> -Speaking of trigedasleng, nomon means mother, and it's probably one of the very few foreign words that'll be used in this fic. (though I make no promises)  
> -Also, I'm going to go ahead and pretend that different grounder clans have different dialects of trigedasleng... cuz I'm the author and I can do what I want.
> 
> Annnd the big one. I want to apologize right now for the fact that this chapter is completely in the POV of an OC. I dislike OC's, so of course I write a chapter told from one's POV. Right? That makes total sense. So, for anyone out there who's like me, I'm very sorry. And there shouldn't be a whole lot more of those, if any.
> 
> And don't worry, I promise Bellarke is coming... eventually.
> 
> I think that's about it. Thank you to anyone who's reading, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Enjoy!

Lainey knelt down to the damp ground, humming to herself as she dug for roots with her bare hands. The mud and earth stained her fingers, lodging under her nails. She’d have to wash them before nomon saw. Cleanliness keeps people healthy, nomon always said. Lainey shook her head the amount of effort nomon put into explaining the positives of proper hygiene to the other villagers was almost maddening. Except for nomon’s apprentice, Cofrea, most villagers were more than happy with their low hygiene standards.

The sounds of the forest mingled with her quiet humming as she filled her satchel. The cacophony of the wildlife and rustling trees was familiar and soothing, broken only by the squelching of her fingers as they pierced into the mud. She liked being out here, away from the village – away from nomon. She loved nomon, but as strong a woman as nomon was, she was always surrounded in a haze of sadness. Sometimes it took over her completely and she’d spend hours in her chair or on her bed, staring at the wall, or sometimes her watch, saying nothing… _doing_ nothing. It was those times that terrified Lainey the most because even _she_ wasn’t enough. Nothing she did could break nomon from the sadness that enveloped her.

_And what if one day she never comes back from it_ , Lainey worried. _What if one day nomon decides to give into her sadness and die there, staring at that stupid wall?_

She’d stopped humming, she realized, as the anger and fear rose up within her. She’d come out here to get away from all that. She blinked before shaking her head, trying to break away from the unhappy thoughts. She continued in her task while going back to enjoying the nature around her, trying to think of happier things.

Eostre would soon be here along with the celebrations that went along with it. The three day festival, which was started with a reenactment of winters long sleep and springs reawakening, was her favorite. This year would be even more exciting since she had finally been chosen to play the part of spring’s maiden, the young girl that is awoken by summers kiss before standing before the village and crowned with a coronet of budding twigs and small flowers.

It was all well and good, Lainey thought, but if she were being honest, the real reason she loved it was the dress. Never in all her nine years had she ever seen anything as beautiful as the dress of spring’s maiden. Long and white, and made from a material so soft she’d like nothing more than to spend all her time running her fingertips across it. The bodice was painstakingly beaded with bone inlaid with white abalone that shimmered in the sun. It was a beautiful, almost silly thing, but that was precisely why she loved it.

Silliness, happiness, and beauty were just a few of the many good things that were rare in this harsh world. A lesson learned so early on, even a nine year old girl understood it. There just wasn’t any time in between survival, so she was determined to enjoy and appreciate any of the good that came her way.

A smile brightened her face as the excitement flared out from her chest, warming her cheeks despite the chilly breeze. Then she heard a noise, an angry shout more like, soon followed by another along with the unmistakable trample of horses. She froze, trying to discern where it was coming from, white puffs of breath floating in front of her.

_From the east._

Quickly, she threw her satchel around her neck and across her chest, grabbed her bow, and ran as silently as she could towards the sounds. Nomon would kill her if she knew Lainey was running towards certain danger instead of away from it, but, as Cofrea always said, curiosity was her weakness and knowledge her power. No point in changing it now.

She ran through the forest as silently as she could, gliding between trees and shrubs and over fallen limbs and ditches. She knew this was something she’d always been good at. Being quick and silent. Like a ninja, nomon would sometimes say – whatever that was.

She stopped when she came to an edge overlooking a small dale, with a stream running through it. A man was running hard and fast along the edge of the stream. Lainey could tell he was out of breath and wouldn’t be able to go on for much longer, before collapsing. His hands were bound in front and he was covered in filth and blood. He was bare chested as well as barefoot. In fact he seemed to have no clothes at all except for the thin pair of dirty trousers tied low on his waist.

_How_ _long_ _has_ _he_ _been_ _out_ _here_ _like_ _that_ , she wondered. _Certainly not too long. He would never have been able to survive the cold nights like that._

Three men on horseback suddenly appeared through the woods on the other side of the dale, their horses easily making the jump down, before quickly surrounding the man, halting him in his tracks.

He didn’t look up at the men as they surrounded him, only stood, leaning to the right as if he were about to fall, his chest expanding rapidly with every breath he took. Finally he did fall to his knees, hunching over with his forearms in the mud and his head on his bound hands. She knew he had nothing left, any hope that he’d had was gone now and all that remained was defeat.

She heard the men on their horses as they talked to each other and heckled the man beneath them. She knew this dialect of trigedasleng. “Trikru,” she whispered. She frowned in confusion. What were Trikru doing here, in Floudonkru territory? They were risking war, even _she_ knew Trikru and Floudonkru were no longer allies.

One of the men dismounted, calmly walking up to the man on the ground – he was still facing down in the mud, still struggling for every breath. The standing man glared down at him for one uncomfortable moment, and Lainey knew she needed to leave. _Now_. But then the man of the Trikru grabbed the kneeling man’s hair, viciously pulling his head up and forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Skaikru are weak, and before I kill you, know that we will slaughter _every_ one of your people.”

Her eyes opened wide at the revelation. _He’s Skaikru! The man on his knees! The man who’s about to be killed!_

He was one of _nomon’s_ people.

The revelation swept through her like a tidal wave. Then suddenly the Trikru man released the Skai person’s hair and savagely kicked him in the stomach. A sound of choking pain tore through the Skai person’s throat as the impact caused his body to jump slightly, before landing heavily on his back. Trikru kicked him again in the side- no, the kidney, she corrected herself.

She winced and looked away from the beating but she could still hear it… and it was brutal.

She couldn’t let him be killed, but there wasn’t any time to go for help. She looked down at her bow, staring at the smooth wood for just a moment, wondering if maybe this was the stupidest plan she ever had.

She took a deep, calming breath.

Then made her decision.

She quickly turned back towards the men and reached behind her shoulder, pulling an arrow from her quiver. Her first inclination was to shoot the man doing the beating, but she knew she wasn’t a good enough shot to land a killing blow on someone who was moving. She just hoped he’d stop once he saw one of his men were dead.

Thankfully, the other two men seemed satisfied with watching the beating from atop their horses, which suited her just fine, as now they made the perfect targets. She notched her arrow (she could do this), lined up her shot (she was quick), took a deep breath (like a ninja), then another only this time she held it in her lungs… then let go (and hopefully she lived long enough to remember to finally ask what in the world that was.)

The arrow hit its target. The man on the horse grasped at his throat as blood sprayed out of it. The relief she felt immediately mixed with a sick feeling that bubbled in her gut. She had just killed a man. Nomon was a healer and Lainey regularly helped her, death was a part of life, death was a part of _her_ life. She knew what it looked like, knew what it sometimes sounded like. She wasn’t afraid to see it, but she had never before caused it.

She watched as the man fell from his horse, the other two men also watching in shock.

She didn’t have time to think about what she’d done, she still had things to do.

Quickly, she ducked down before the men looked in the direction her arrow had come from, then, while crouched over, ran down the length of the dale. She needed to cross it without being seen, come up around the other side and take her next shot. By now the men had huddled behind a log, waiting for the barrage of arrows or group of warriors that weren’t coming. They were distracted which was exactly what she needed. She was far enough away they wouldn’t notice her as she crossed, but still she kept behind as many fallen trees and small mounds as possible.

When she made it across the dale and up the other ridge she ran back up as fast as she could. She was behind them now but they were also probably aware that the shooter was alone. She wasn’t a master battle planner, so she’d just have to work with what she had.

She noticed the Skai person laid in the same position that they had left him, when they took cover behind the log. She sighed as she gripped her bow. She really, really hoped he wasn’t dead, otherwise this would have all been for nothing.

She notched another arrow, prepared herself for another shot and released. She was further away from them this time – which was the excuse she was giving as to why this shot completely missed. She huffed as she quickly notched another arrow.

The men were on high alert now, still crouched behind their cover – which they now realized was no longer covering them – and looking all around, yelling to each other. She had to do this quick. But then one of them stood, the one who had watched the beating from his horse, surprising her enough to stop and watch him. He looked around the dale and into the woods that surrounded him with a smirk. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, he laughed.

_“Stay here,”_ he chuckled to the other man without even looking at him, his smirk still planted on his smug face. He started striding towards her first hiding spot without a care in the world, as if someone hadn’t just tried to shoot him with an arrow.

The jig was most definitely up now and she needed to finish this as soon as possible. The smirker had all but disappeared into the woods on the other side of the dale, well out of range. She’d just have to deal with him later. Instead she concentrated on the beater. His head was shaved bald and he had a tattoo that ran up the back of his neck, atop his head, and onto his face. He was a big man but she knew size didn’t matter when it came to death.

She watched him as he looked down at the unmoving Skai person, watched as he scoffed then spit on him. A hot flash of anger shot through her body, though she was confused as to why. She didn’t know this man didn’t know what he had done to deserve such hateful treatment from Trikru. But he was one of nomon’s people, and that made him one of hers in a way. Even though, technically she had never met a Skai person before, she thought to herself.

She lifted her bow and arrow, preparing for another shot- she squeaked as she was abruptly being lifted by her hair. She screeched as the pain ripped through her skull, and she dropped her weapon, grabbing the hand that painfully held her up. It was the smirker, she realized. He had come back around and flanked her, just as she’d done to them.

She scratched at the hand that held her, but then froze when his other hand came around to her throat with a knife.

He looked down at her with his ever present smirk. Intense blue eyes boring into her frightened brown ones. Her heart sped as the fear she had been feeling all along finally took over, and she let out a gasp before tears started falling.

“Please,” she cried out, knowing already that it would do no good.

He chuckled at her. _“Such a little thing to cause so much trouble,”_ he whispered. He scoffed before making her walk forward. Guiding her with his hand wrapped in her hair and knife to her throat.

She tried to be brave, to be strong like in the stories they told of nomon, but she couldn’t hold back the cries of pain and fear as he moved her through the brush. They got to the ridge and made their way down into the dale.

_“Here’s your shooter!”_ her captor announced with a smile.

The beater must’ve been more of the surly type, only grunting in acknowledgement while looking her up and down in disgust. He turned around, bending to pick up the Skai person, pushing him on his knees to face her. The Skai person was covered in mud and blood and she couldn’t make out any of his features, but then his eyes slowly opened and he grunted in pain, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He wasn’t dead.

_Not that it matters anymore._

The smirker leaned down towards the Skai person, his hold becoming tighter in her hair, making her cry out. “Maybe you should thank your little hero,” he said in perfect English, “before I cut her little throat.”

She couldn’t help it and another cry left her lips, but this time she couldn’t make it stop as tears poured from her eyes. She fought, and pulled, and scratched but it was no use, and he only held his blade tighter to her neck.

The Skai person did nothing, only swallowing nervously as he gave the smirker a defeated look, before finally giving her the same. His eyes were sad, full of anguish and regret and… _weakness_ , she thought. She felt bad about it, knew it was irrational but in that moment all her fear and anger was sent straight at him. _Why doesn’t he do something? Why doesn’t he save us?_ Then angrily she thought, _The Skaikru_ are _weak._ Everyone said it, though not around nomon. But it was why Luna refused to align with them and why, Lainey always suspected, nomon had left them.

The smirker laughed, leaning back behind her. The edge of the knife dug into the tender flesh of her throat. It burned, and she closed her eyes as she screamed. The world seemed to stop, and nothing mattered anymore except for the pain blooming at her neck.

And then it was gone.

She gasped as she was suddenly pulled down by the smirker, his hand still clasped tightly in her hair as she fell on top of him. She thought he had fallen, perhaps tripped, and taken her down with him, but when she looked up she saw blood spurting from his eye. She choked on her shock, trying to get away, but his fingers were still tangled in her long hair.

As she was trying to release his death grip, she could hear grunting, and shouting, and growing. She wasn’t really sure how the Skai person could fight with his hands bound and half dead, but she really didn’t care anymore.

Panicking, she finally just ripped her head from the smirker’s dead fingers, desperate to get away. As soon as she was free she ran without looking back. She ran, and ran, and ran until the shaking in her legs became too much and they gave out and she dropped to the ground.

A scream passed her lips followed by a loud uncontrollable sobbing. Her belly was shaking, her arms were shaking, her neck burned, and her head hurt, and she just wanted to go home.

“Nomon,” she screamed, “Nomon!”

xxxxxxxxx

Eventually it stopped – the crying, the shaking, the fear, till all she felt was a throbbing everywhere on her body, and pure, absolute exhaustion.

_I can’t sleep here._

She had to get home. Had to get to nomon.

Lifting herself to a sitting position, hands still on the ground for support, she listened to the woods around her. All was quiet except for the croaking frogs and chirping crickets. It was getting dark. The sun was nearly gone and the sky had become a hazy pink on one side and deep blue on the other. How long had she been lying here, she wondered.

She gently lifted herself on shaky legs – okay so the shaking wasn’t quite over – and began to stumble her way home.

Nomon would be angry. Lainey had never stayed out this late. Not to mention she was covered in mud and her hair was a mess, with braids unraveling, and leaves sticking out.

She wondered about the Skai person. Wondered if he had won the fight. She hoped he had. She hoped he was getting away, running back home like her. But she knew it wasn’t true. Even if he had beat the big, bald Tri person, there’s no way the injuries he had would let him get very far, much less all the way back to his village.

He had saved her, she realized. Grabbed the knife that was one second from slicing her throat and plunged it into the eye of her captor. She remembered what she had thought of him, of his people, as he looked into her eyes right before it all happened, and she felt shame burning its way through her.

“Please be alive.”


	3. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything important to say, just a thank you again to anyone who's reading this. Writing is always fun, but knowing you guys are out there actually enjoying what I write makes it ten times better! Enjoy!

Clarke paced the longhouse. Her brain working a mile a minute. She was certain she was on the verge of vomiting. Maybe if she stopped pacing the nausea would go away, but she couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t just sit. She couldn’t stay here at all anymore. She needed to leave. To get out of this damn room. She needed to be out searching and-

_“Clarke.”_

Her pacing stopped, as she looked up at the man sitting in front of the large fire pit. He sat in a fur covered chair with his head leaning on his thumb and finger, rubbing his forehead. He looked worried, but his presence always exuded a kind of calm, like somehow he was always sure of the outcome of any situation and could plan accordingly. And as far as she could tell, he could. It’s what made him such a good leader and warrior. He always made her feel safe, always assuaged any of her fears and worries.

He also terrifies you, whispered a small voice inside her.

_“Sit,”_ he commanded.

She glared at him, feeling her irritation practically seeping from her pores.

He seemed to realize his mistake and blinked slowly before taking a deep breath. He held out his hand to the beds along the wall.

_“Please,”_ he pleaded, softly.

With a tight shake of her head, she looked away from his piercing blue eyes that seemed to read hers, and everyone else’s for that matter, so well.

_“I can’t,”_ She said.

He took another deep breath before slowly releasing it. Everything he did was slow and meticulous.

_Everything except for killing_

She could see him from the corner of her eye as he lifted his head from his hand, cocking it to the side. The chair groaned with his movement, cutting the thick silence like a blade.

He was staring at her – studying her. And even in her current state of turmoil, she couldn’t help her body’s reaction as it flushed hot in embarrassment – and a multitude of other feelings she refused to acknowledge.

Lainey – all that mattered was Lainey. She swallowed the lump in her throat that was becoming more painful by the second. She felt like she was going to scream.

_“I need to be out there,”_ she snapped.

Silence followed her outburst, squeezing the air from her lungs until she finally looked at him.

_“No.”_ His answer was firm and his tone brooked no argument. For most people it worked. But she was not most people, and this was her daughter’s life at stake.

Calmly walking up to him, she looked him right in the eye. _“You cannot keep me here,”_ she demanded. _“My daughter is out there alone. Maybe hurt, maybe- maybe dying.”_ Her voice cracked as she stumbled over the words. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. She needed to stay strong, say firm. She refused to fall apart when her daughter needed her. _“I should be out there looking for her. Not sitting here, letting you babysit me.”_

The silence that followed was excruciating. Blue eyes clashing with blue eyes and she knew she’d already lost.

He was just too good at this battle of wills.

A silent tear slid down her cheek, it was becoming too difficult to hold them back – too painful as they burned her eyes. The damn smoke from the fire wasn’t helping. _“Theo,”_ she pleaded softly.

More staring, and she looked away – too scared, too worried, too ashamed to continue meeting his gaze.

He stretched out his hand for her – and after a moment, she lifted her arm, her cold fingers finding his warm ones. He squeezed them, gently pulling her closer. She ached for the reassurance he was offering. She watched as he brought her fingers to his lips, placing a chaste kiss there, looking into her eyes while he did it.

It didn’t work.

She was breaking. Perhaps she was already broken. The girl who wanted to fight for the truth alongside her father, the girl that led her people, fought for their survival, brought down a mountain.

_What happened to that girl?_

More tears escaped, falling from her chin. Anger suddenly moved within her at the unfairness at everything she had already lost. _“I can’t lose her,”_ she growled.

Theo’s gaze never wavered. Warm fingers still rubbing hers, he whispered, _“You don’t even know if you have yet.”_

She was going to lose it. Any moment now and she was going to scream and sob out her frustration and fear, but then a sudden commotion outside stalled the coming disaster. She whipped her head around to the entrance as Theo stood beside her. He quickly took hold of her upper arm, keeping her from running outside. Before she could do a very stupid thing, like push him away, the longhouse began filling with people. But the more it filled with people that weren’t Lainey, the more she thought she would truly lose her mind. Now she was sure the only thing keeping her grounded was Theo’s hand wrapped around her arm.

Then she saw him – Theo’s second, Eawen. He came in holding Lainey in his arms.

A cry tore from deep within her, and the hand that held her back released her.

“Nomon,” Lainey cried out, reaching out for Clarke as Eawen held fast to her quaking body, keeping her from falling from his arms.

The moment Clarke heard her daughter’s cry all pretense of being strong and firm went right out the window. She careened forward, taking her daughter from the large man, sinking to the ground with Lainey in her arms, sobbing into her hair. They clung to each other, in a world of their own, as the small crowd around them cheered and praised one another.

Pulling back, she ran her hands down her daughter’s disheveled hair, looking at the tear tracks lining down the girl’s face. Clarke noticed the small cut across her nose and a deeper one on the side of her neck. She held her small face in her hand, rubbing the dirty cheek with her thumb. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

The girl’s eyes began to water and a look of fear crossed her features. Clarke immediately tensed, holding her tighter. “What happened?”

xxxxxxxxx

Cofrea set the large bowl of warm water on the table next to Lainey, a small rag hanging off the side. The young woman watched as Clarke, hands shaking, threaded the needle for the stitches. _“Do you need anything else?”_

Clarke looked at her with a warm smile. _“No. Thank you, though.”_

Cofrea turned to Lainey, with a playfully angry look on her face. _”And you. You are not allowed to scare me like that ever again,”_ she growled while taking the girl by the cheeks and loudly kissing the top of her head.

_”I’m sorry.”_

Cofrea shook her head. _”I’m just happy you’re okay.”_ After giving the girl a final kiss she turned to leave. _“Goodnight.”_

_“Goodnight, Rea.”_

Mother and daughter watched as the young apprentice left, then turned to each other.

“Now,” Clarke began, mom voice firmly in place, “tell me what happened.”

xxxxxxxxx

“Are you sure?” She couldn’t really believe it. Trikru never came out this far anymore, and certainly not anyone from the Ark.

Lainey nodded her head. “Their trigedasleng was trikru. And they were calling him Skaikru so… “ She shrugged her shoulders.

Clarke looked away, lost in thought. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she whispered to herself. “I haven’t heard anything going on between them recently.”

Lainey blinked, trying to come up with some sort of answer to satisfy her mother. “Maybe not with Skaikru, but Trikru is always at war with Azgeda.” Clarke turned towards her daughter. “And Azgeda has an alliance with Skaikru,” the girl said, matter-of-factly.

Clarke stared at her with brows drawn together. “How do you know that?”

Lainey’s eyes went wide. “I… know things,” she stammered, shrugging her shoulders again.

Clarke gave her a hard look raising her eyebrow. “You’ve been sneaking into meetings again haven’t you-“

“No!”

Lainey looked away after her outburst, which all but announced her guilt. She sighed. “Maybe… sometimes,” she mumbled. She reached up to rub the itchy bandage on her neck.

Clarke rolled her eyes, gently pulling the girl’s arm down. “Alright, well… we’ll deal with that tomorrow. You need to get some sleep, but I th-“

“No, we can’t!”

“Lainey, you’re exhausted. _I’m_ exhausted.”

“We have to go back.”

Clarke crossed her arms as she huffed. Her weariness was truly staring to sink in, weighing her down, making her feel much older than her twenty-eight years. “Go back where?”

Lainey didn’t say anything, unsure of _how_ to say it.

Clarke’s eyes widened as she finally caught on. “No. Lainey, absolutely not.”

“Nomon-“

“No!” Her voice was sharp as all the tension, fear, and anger of the day finally burst out. “It is not up for debate! It is not a conversation we are even going to have!”

“But-“

Clarke grabbed her daughter’s arms, wiling her to understand just how horrifying the feeling of her possible death had been. “You almost died today! I almost lost you!”

“And you would have!”

Clarke was shocked into silence at her daughter’s outburst.

“You would’ve lost me!” Lainey cried. “I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t _saved_ me!”

Clarke closed her eyes, shaking her head. She was just so damn… _tired_. “Lainey-“

Tears began to spill down the girl’s cheeks. “He saved me and I left him there!” The look of pain and regret on her face was heartbreaking. “I left him there to die! I could hear him fighting, and I left him.” She looked down as sobs raked body. “I left him.”

Clarke quickly wrapped her in her arms, cradling her head to her chest, letting her tears wet the fabric there. “My sweet baby,” she murmured. “You tried. You tried to save him. You did more than most.”

Lainey sniffled as she clung to her mother. “He might still be alive,” she sobbed. “He could be.”

Clarke said nothing as she continued to hold her. Not wanting to tell her daughter the truth – that the man she had risked her life for was most likely dead.

As Lainey’s cries quieted she pulled her head back to look at her mother. “He’s one of your _people_. Aren’t you worried? Don’t you care?”

Clarke sighed as she took in her brave little daughter, carding her fingers through the girl’s hair, still damp from the recent washing. “I worry about you more. I care about _you more_.”

The girl shook her head slowly, giving her mother a pleading look. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” she whispered.

Clarke gave her a small smile before kissing her forehead. “I will always worry about you,” she muttered, against her skin. She sighed again as she gently gripped the girl’s legs, and waited a beat before making her mind. “I will make you a deal.”

Lainey’s eyes went wide.

“Tomorrow, during the day, I will look for this man. Okay?” Lainey nodded so vigorously Clarke was sure it had to hurt with all her aches and pains. “But you _have_ to stay here.”

The nodding stopped abruptly. “But nom-“

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

The girl mulled it over, sadness still etched across her face. She bit her lip as she finally nodded in resignation.

Clarke kissed the side of her head, then turned and went to the large chest in the corner, bringing out the furs to ready them for bed. Everyone in the village slept together in the longhouse – there was safety in numbers as well as warmth – but tonight, she decided, they would spend in her healer’s hut.

She wanted privacy with her daughter. She wanted to lay her hand on the girl’s chest as she slept, feel the rise and fall of it as her breath entered her lungs. She wanted to feel the steady, strong heartbeat that said she was alive.

Her daughter was alive.

It had gone quiet, the crackle of the small fire stirred in the silence. Clarke stood with her back to Lainey, running a hand across the soft furs.

“But you can’t wait until tomorrow,” Lainey said, softly, breaking the silence. “Because then he _will_ be dead.”

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke stood after lighting her torch. She figured she was far enough away from the village that they would no longer see it. She just hoped no one else did either. Who knew who else was out here, and with this new knowledge that Trikru had risked war to come into Floudonkru territory, she was more than a little paranoid.

She knew she had to tell Theo, so that he could inform Luna, but if this Arker that had saved her daughter was still alive, he could very well be in danger. She didn’t know what Theo or Luna would do with him.

Maybe send him to Camp Jaha. Maybe return him to Trikru to be killed. Maybe kill him themselves.

Floudonkru and Skaikru were not at war, nor had they ever been, but that almost meant nothing down here. She learned long ago that grounder leaders were fickle, and they were ready to fight anyone at the drop of a hat, and over the smallest of provocations.

Keeping peace on the ground was like walking a tight rope, and the slightest breeze could make you fall.

Her palms were sweating despite the cold, and the nervousness in her stomach was making her nauseous. She hoped she could do this fast, almost hoped that this man was dead. If he was from the Ark he might recognize her, and tell someone where she-

She stopped walking and closed her eyes – self-disgust almost blinding her. What was she thinking? What kind of person wished death on the man that saved their child?

_The awful kind._

She took a deep breath before trudging on in the darkness.

She would find this man and do what she could to help him, _if_ she could help him, and hopefully he would agree to keep their meeting secret. If not… she’d just have to deal with it when the time came.

Finally she came upon the dale. She looked down into it but the night was too dark and the moon gave no light while hidden behind the clouds. Looking along the ridge she tried to find the easiest way down without breaking her neck – not such an easy feat in the near pitch black. As she carefully made her way down, she praised her forethought in deciding to change from her everyday dress to the much more practical trousers before she left.

It was quiet except for the soft gurgle of the stream, and the popping of her torch. She looked at the ground for any signs of… anything really. She’d never been a tracker and she wasn’t going to magically become one now, in the dark.

She rolled her eyes as she realized just how stupid and futile this plan had been. She should have stood by her decision, told Lainey that she would go looking in the morning when she could actually see. But that look on her daughter’s face that was so full of grief and regret for leaving this man behind, changed her mind. She knew what it was like to carry the heavy burden of lives lost on your shoulders, and she wanted to do everything she could to relieve that burden for her daughter.

It had no right to rest of the shoulders of a nine year old girl.

_Anymore than it did an_ eighteen _year old girl._

Suddenly she wasn’t standing by a stream in the middle of the night, but next to a boy whose eyes were pleading for her to stay.

Sometimes in her dreams, she does stay, and they’re happy at first – as happy as they could be with all their scars – but then something always happens. Sometimes she still ends up leaving, sometimes _he_ leaves, but the worst are the ones that end with his death.

She never dies.

The dreams never end happy, and at first she didn’t know why. If she couldn’t be happy in life, couldn’t she at least be happy in her dreams, she reasoned. But then, late one night as she lay alone and dirty, under a sad excuse for shelter, her belly heavy with the life she carried within it, she knew the reason.

She didn’t deserve it.

She’d made her choices. She chose to see Wells as her father’s murderer instead of the truth, wasting what little time he had left of his short life making him feel her hate. She chose to publicly confront Murphy, blame Charlotte, sacrifice Finn, keep quiet about the missile, trust Lexa, commit genocide.

Leave _him_.

No, she didn’t deserve happiness.

Her mind too busy on her guilty conscience, she was no longer looking down. She tripped, falling hard on the rocks beneath her. She cried out at the initial impact then hissed as she tried to sit up. Everything seemed to be fine except for the burning on her palms and along her side. She lifted her shirt and thankfully only found a long scrape running up her pale skin. It didn’t seem too bad, but she’d have to wait until she had more light to see if there was any real damage.

Groaning, she looked back to see what she’d tripped on, and as she did her blood ran cold.

An arm.

She’d tripped on a person’s arm.

She found her torch on the ground and slowly crawled over to the body attached to the appendage. As she moved the torch above him she could already tell this wasn’t the man she was looking for. Lainey had said the Arker hadn’t been wearing anything except a thin pair of trousers, and this man was decked out in leather and fur.

She moved the torch up and gasped at what it revealed. His face was gone, and was now just a bloody, messy pulp. A large rock lay near his head, covered in gore.

She looked away, focusing instead on looking for the man who she’d come here to find. She didn’t have to look far as she saw the dark shape of yet another body. He had dark skin and even darker hair. But as she got closer she realized it was mud. She laid her hand on his chest but felt no movement.

Sorrow that she didn’t expect to feel, came over her, and shame for having earlier wished for his death hit her hard. This man had died to save her daughter’s life and she truly wished she could’ve saved his. She brought her fingers to his neck, just to be sure.

She felt it. A fluttering under his skin. It was weak but it was there.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, in astonishment.

Her brain scrambled, trying to figure out what she needed to do next. She took a minute to stare at this unmoving body, then finally her healer mode kicked back in. She needed to assess his injuries.

She tried searching his body but it was too dark, even with the torch, not to mention the filth that was covering every inch of him. Laying down the torch, she pulled a cloth from her satchel she had brought with her, dunking it in the cold stream nearby.

She began to gently clean his chest, mindful of the cuts and gashes she found. Though there were many, they seemed mostly superficial – they could wait until she had more time and better light – except for one. It was definitely a stab wound, low on his left shoulder. It seem to be bleeding heavily, but she took out another cloth and placed pressure on it anyways.

With one hand on his wound, she used the other to continue washing him off. She remembered when Murphy came back to camp, bleeding and bruised – tortured. This was worse. His whole body was littered with cuts and dark bruises. She remembered Lainey telling her about the beating he took, but she knew, just by looking at him here in the dark, it hadn’t been the only one, and she prayed he wasn’t bleeding internally.

She began washing his face, passing the cloth across his full lips and even fuller beard, tsking as the more she uncovered the more injuries she seemed to find.

She continued to clean his face until her breath suddenly caught in her throat, and her motions slowed… until they stopped completely.

Perhaps the shadows dancing along his skin from the torch, were playing tricks.

She stared hard at him, hoping she was wrong, hoping she was hallucinating.

She knew this face.

During the day she would sketch it by memory. Over and over, trying to get it right, trying to make it perfect – she never could. While at night she would dream of it, and the warmth it always made her feel.

She sighed as her eyes began to fill with tears, her body deflating. He looked so much like Lainey it hurt.

“Bellamy.”


	4. Hidden Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you all. Sorry, this one is a bit more plot driven and there's not a whole lot of Bellarke. It's only been like a day and poor Bellamy needs a little time to heal lol. But I'm thinking we'll be getting what we all want in another chapter or two. Bellarke is coming soon, I promise! Sorry for any mistakes and thank you to all my readers, and reviewers, and anyone who's bookmarked, subscribed, or left a kudos. You're all amazing people and it's for all of you that I post these silly stories that I have rattling around in my brain! Enjoy!

_He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay._

It was a mantra in her head that she couldn’t stop repeating. Had to make herself believe it, or all hope was lost and she would be no use to him. She _was_ going to save him because there was just no other option.

She’d fashioned a makeshift stretcher but now she had to get him on it. She kneeled behind his head and lifted him into a sitting position, sliding her hands beneath his arms. She began pulling his dead weight, groaning and gasping until he was finally on the stretcher.

She kneeled by his side, checking his pulse and bandage, as she tried to catch her breath. He was heavy – she knew he would be – but she really wasn’t sure how she was going to drag his body through miles of forest… in the dark.

But she would.

Lainey had said the Trikru were using horses and Clarke wished there was one still around so she could attach the stretcher to it, but they seemed to be long gone by now, and she certainly wasn’t going to waste time searching for them.

Looking down at the man under her, she couldn’t help but touch him as she moved her fingers up from his weak pulse, to his jaw. Her thumb caressed his cheek and she felt her eyes begin to burn as her throat became tight. She missed him, so much. Having him here now – his warm skin beneath her hand… it was too much and not enough. She let a tear slide down, and then another, but then she sniffed and looked away. He was too weak - _dying_ – and if she wanted to save his life she had to move, now. There would be time for everything else later, she thought.

She wrapped straps of leather around her hands, to protect her palms, then bent to lift the stretcher, gritting her teeth as she stood, and groaning as she began to pull. She dug her feet into the ground, leaning forward with her weight. Yes, he was heavy, and this would be difficult, to say the least, but she’d do it. She’d save him just like he saved her, so many times.

As she struggled, dragging the stretcher through the difficult terrain, sweat already forming on the back of her neck, she thought about where she was taking him. There was no way she could drag him all the way back to Camp Jaha, _her_ body would most likely give out before they made it there. And she couldn’t take him back to her village, it was too dangerous for him, not to mention she’d have no way of hiding him. There was only one option left, and it killed her to make that choice, but it wasn’t a choice, not really. Not when the only other choice was letting him die – which she _couldn’t_ do. Not again.

She’d only made it a few steps and her breathing was already growing heavy and her thighs were burning. But she wouldn’t stop. She’d never stop.

xxxxxxxxx

The sun was nearly up, the darkness around her slowly fading into a light blue when she fell to her knees, her breath ragged and burning in her lungs. Her legs and arms had become rubber and her hands were cracked and bleeding, even with the protective leather. She closed her eyes, unable to keep them open any longer as she swayed on her knees in exhaustion. She felt a raindrop splash off her nose before more trickled down through the trees. It was light, but it was so refreshing. She tilted her head back, letting the droplets fall across her face.

After a few moments she looked over at Bellamy, still unmoving on the stretcher. She dragged herself closer and painfully reached out her arm, touching her fingers to his pulse. It was beating, but still weak. She looked around her at the thick, green foliage. She knew she was in the right place, it was only a matter of finding it. Finding _her_.

With a groan, she got to her feet stumbling across the slippery ground. She heard a crack, like a snap of a twig, and she froze, her heavy breathing becoming light - quiet. She licked her lips, and her eyes searched frantically for any sign of life.

“Why have you come back, I wonder.”

Clarke gasped as she turned and fell back, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a silent scream.

The woman before her was tall, and blonde, and she looked at Clarke with curious eyes and a knowing grin. “You look terrible,” she teased.

Clarke sat up on her hands with her lips pressed the together, staring at the woman above her with suspicion.

_Runa_

Runa leaned down slightly, the blonde of her hair catching in the morning sunlight. “Have you come here for a purpose, or just to glare at me?”

Clarke pushed herself up - not taking her eyes off the smirking woman - her body protesting the movement with aches and pains shooting through her legs, but she refused to let it show – knew that it was dangerous to let this woman see your weaknesses. Her eyes were hard and her jaw firm. “I need your help,” she said, between her teeth.

Runa’s face lit up as her brows raised and her blue eyes sparkled. “ _Again?_ ” she asked, in surprise.

Clarke said nothing, only staring at her.

The woman tilted her head and her features became cool once more. “Did you do what I asked of you?”

Clarke’s nose flared as she clenched her hands. “You know I did. So how about we stop playing games and yo-“

“But I’m _so_ good at them,” Runa interrupted, nonchalantly.

Clarke blinked as fear swam within her gut. “I know,” she said, softly.

The silence was deafening as the two woman stared at one another.

Then Runa’s smirk turned into a smile. “What do you need from me, Klark kom Skaikru?”

xxxxxxxxx

The small hovel was warm and clean and smelled of fresh herbs. Clarke remembered the last time she’d come here, remembered how relieved and grateful she’d felt to find it, to find _her_. Till she found out the price she’d had to pay. But as angry as it made her, it had still been worth it. She looked at Bellamy, his still figure and normally tan skin turned wan. This would be worth it too – whatever the price turned out to be.

She was careful, gentle, as she cleaned his wound, clearing it of any debris. But still she was hoping he would cry out or at least moan – give her any sign that he was alive besides just the steady beat of his heart and the slight rise and fall of his chest. Not that she _wasn’t_ unbelievably grateful for those things as well.

“That needs to be dealt with,” Runa said, from behind her, gesturing to the wound.

Clarke clenched her jaw, eyes never leaving Bellamy. “I know,” she said, curtly. She opened her satchel, taking out her needle and string.

Runa quickly placed her hand atop Clarke’s, stopping her in her movements.

“What are you doing?” Runa chuckled, with her brows raised.

Clarke glared at her. “Stitching him up,” she answered, before pushing the other woman’s hands away.

Runa placed her hands atop Clarke’s once more - her a stern look clashing with Clarke’s angry one. “I have something better.”

Clarke watched as Runa rummaged around her hut, looking inside pots and hollowed out gourds. She returned with a clay pot and gently pushed Clarke out of the way, hovering over Bellamy.

Panic suddenly flashed through Clarke’s body as she pushed herself in between Bellamy and the other woman. She needed her if Bellamy was going to come out of this alive. But she didn’t trust her as far as she could throw her. “What is that? What will that do to him?”

Runa gave her a look of pity, showing her the contents of the pot. “Pine sap. It will seal the wound, keeping it clean till it’s healed.”

Clarke swallowed, looking up from the sticky substance to Runa’s eyes – they were a mix of grey and blue and filled with a keen intelligence. Chess had been a favorite pastime of Wells’, and she’d played it with him often, becoming quite good at it. But she had the feeling, if she had ever gone up against Runa she would’ve lost in record time. The woman was always steps ahead of everyone else, and Clarke worried about just how far behind her she was.

“Truly Clarke, I thought you were a healer,” Runa mocked, disdainfully. Once again she pushed Clarke out of the way, and this time Clarke let her, watching as Runa poured a liberal amount of the sap straight into Bellamy’s wound, then covered it with a clean cloth. “If he wakes within the next few hours I think he’ll be fine. But his body needs time to heal.” She ran her hand gently down his chest, across the cuts and bruises that littered his torso. “It looks like it’s been through a lot, recently.”

Clarke inhaled deeply, staring at him. He looked so different – older. Though some of that was probably the beard and long hair. She remembered when she’d seen him last, standing outside the gates of Camp Jaha, with his curls hanging down his forehead and over his ears. It seemed even longer now, though it was hard to tell for sure, as mussed as it was.

Her heart ached as she suddenly realized that he’d saved Lainey – he’d saved his daughter and he didn’t even know it. Her eyes burned but she refused to cry. She knew she would have a lot to answer for when he finally woke, and as anxious as she was for him to open his eyes, it petrified her. He would hate her.

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke snuck back into the village, her body and heart sore. She stumbled into her hut and pulled off her satchel.

_“How was your hunt?”_

Clarke gasped and whirled around – that was the second time that happened today. Cofrea stood with her hands above her, tying bunches of wormwood to hang and dry. She turned her head around, glancing at Clarke.

_“Your hunt… for herbs. Lainey said you left early this morning.”_

Clarke’s brows shot up and her mouth opened wide in understanding. Her daughter had covered for her.

_“Um… not so good, actually.”_ She thought it the best answer to give, in case she the younger woman went through her satchel and found nothing that would indicate Clarke had picked any plants at all. _“I was just… distracted.”_ She _had_ been distracted. By saving Bellamy. Obviously too distracted to come up with a story as to why she’d been gone for hours on end.

Cofrea turned to look at her with her head tilted.

_“With Lainey,”_ Clarke burst out. _“With what happened to Lainey… yesterday.”_

The apprentice smiled understandingly, before turning away again. _“Well, you didn’t have to go. I think we’re fine for the moment,”_ she said, nodding to the herbs that still needed hanging.

Clarke inhaled before slowly releasing it, staring at the wall in front of her in a daze. She hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours – she was exhausted. _“I just needed to get away,”_ she murmured.

Lainey suddenly came in, nearly bowling Clarke over with a hug. Clarke placed a hand behind the girl’s head holding her tightly to her chest.

“I was worried. You were gone so long,” Lainey said, against her. Clarke chuckled, running a hand down her long hair. It wasn’t curly like Bellamy’s, and Clarke lamented the fact, but it was just as dark… and soft.

Lainey lifted her head. _“Did you find it?”_ she asked, switching to trigedasleng – for Cofrea’s benefit, Clarke assumed. _“The_ plant _I told you about?”_

Clarke smiled with amusement at her daughter’s subterfuge. She placed her hands on the girl’s face. _“Yes.”_ Lainey’s eyes lit up. _”I didn’t bring it back though. It’s-“_ Clarke inhaled slowly through her nose, rubbing her thumbs across Lainey’s cheeks. _“It needs time. It’s not ready yet.”_

Lainey’s brows were furrowed in confusion.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she whispered, as Cofrea came up to them.

_“I’m going to make my rounds. I’ll have to wait till the meetings over to take a look at Lukas’ hand.”_ Cofrea shook her head. _“It doesn’t seem to be getting much better._ You _might have to check it.”_

Clarke nodded. _“I will.”_ The younger woman began to leave before Clarke stopped her. _“Did you say there was a meeting? They just had one.”_

_“I’m not certain, but… I think it has to do with something they found while looking for Lainey yesterday.”_

Clarke schooled her expression, as a sudden crack of fear and anxiety shooting through her body. _“Oh,”_ she said, voice unconcerned. Clarke watched as her apprentice left. “I have to go.” She too began to leave till Lainey grabbed her arm.

“Nomon, your hands.”

Clarke looked down at her palms and saw that they were a bleeding mess beneath the leather strips. She sighed as she walked to a nearby basket pulling out strips of clean cloth before hurriedly wrapping them around her bloody hands.

“You need to clean them firs-“

“They’re fine,” she snapped.

Silence filled the hut as Clarke finished tying off her hastily done bandages.

“You want to go to the meeting.”

Clarke looked up at her daughter.

“You think they know about the Skai person?” Lainey asked.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I don’t know. That, or maybe it has something to do with the Trikru.”

Lainey nodded, looking down at the floor. Clarke’s shoulder’s dropped as she released a pent up breath. She walked up to her daughter, lifting her chin gently. “I think he’s going to be okay,” she said, softly and she saw as the girl’s face beamed. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll be back.”

xxxxxxxxx

Lainey stepped out of the hut, watching as her mother strode away. She was slowly making her way to the meeting house, dawdling through the village, taking her time so no one would notice.

_“Lainey,”_ a voice cried out, in excitement.

She rolled her eyes. Of _course_ he would bring attention to her while she was trying to blend in. Just like he did every time she tried to sneak anywhere. Half the things she wanted to do, she never could, with his loud manner and big mouth following her around absolutely _everywhere_.

_“Go away, Nikolas,”_ she said, in irritation. She let out a small ‘oof’ as the boy lunged at her, hugging her from the side, trying to wrap his small arms around her. He was an energetic six year old, so his hugs were almost always enthusiastic.

_“I’m so happy you’re okay,”_ the boy said, as he squeezed tighter.

Lainey sighed. The fastest way for her to get out of this was to reciprocate, so she brought an arm up awkwardly from beneath his and patted him lightly. _“Okay,”_ Lainey grunted. _“Now I need to breathe, and you need to stop following me.”_

Finally, Nikolas let her go and she quickly turned and began walking toward the meeting house once again. She could feel the boy’s eyes on her, but she was running late now - by the time she got in there, the meeting would be over – and she didn’t have any time to distract him. She walked in silence, and she could hear his footfalls behind her.

_“Are you sneaking into another meeti-“_

Lainey quickly turned, slapping her hand over his mouth. A woman walked passed, glaring at them. Lainey smiled at her with her hand still covering the boy’s mouth, only releasing him when the woman was out of earshot.

_“Be quiet,”_ she hissed, at the boy, before she turned away.

Nikolas ran up beside her with a carefree smile still on his face. She swore he was just like a dog. _“Can I go with you?”_

_“No.”_

_“Why not?”_

Lainey rolled her eyes, frustration mounting inside of her. _“Because_ you _are the reason I got caught last time. Now, stop following me!”_

It was quiet before Nikolas broke the silence… again. _“I should’ve followed you yesterday. That way I could’ve helped you find your way back home.”_

Lainey clenched her fists. _“I_ know _my way home,”_ she growled.

_“Then why did it take you so long?”_ he asked, with genuine curiosity.

She wasn’t about to get into that, but she knew Nikolas could be like a dog with a bone, so she distracted him with the easiest thing she could.

She stared at him a moment then said, _“Fine, you can come with me.”_

The boy’s eyes lit up as his smile stretched from ear to ear. But before he could become overexcited she grabbed his arm. _“But you_ have _to be quiet.”_ The boy nodded vigorously as his body seemed to vibrate with pure joy.

Lainey rolled her eyes. She was definitely going to get caught.

xxxxxxxxx

In her hurry, Clarke rushed into the meeting house – the door nearly slamming into the wall. She looked around awkwardly as eight pairs of eyes turned to her. She swallowed before clearing her throat.

_“Sorry.”_

Theo eyed her with amusement. _“Clarke. It’s nice of you to finally join us again.”_

She blinked, looking at him sheepishly. He turned back to one of the other men, nodding at him to continue.

_“The scout says they were Trikru.”_

Theo inhaled slowly, and Clarke’s heart beat a mile a minute.

_“They would not dare,”_ hissed, a woman standing by the wall.

_“They would,”_ argued the man. _“_ Now _they would.”_

Theo tilted his head. _“Why now?”_

The man looked uncomfortable, Clarke thought. Almost… afraid.

Theo sauntered slowly toward him. _“Why now?”_ he enunciated.

_“It wasn’t just Trikru,”_ the man stammered.

Clarke’s stomach dropped.

_“It was the_ she-wolf _.”_

Her mouth dropped and her breath caught in her throat with surprise. Surprise that the answer hadn’t been at all what she was expecting. She released her breath in relief – Bellamy was still safe - then noticed how quiet everyone had gone. Looking around the room she saw that their faces were also surprised but instead of relief it was from terror. Theo had turned and was now staring down at the table. Clarke could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

_“Who is the she-wolf?”_ she asked, timidly. Once again, all eyes were on her.

_“The she-wolf is a demon,”_ answered a man to her left. _”A beast not of this world. She stalks the woods, looking for the blood of men to fill her belly-“_

_“That’s enough,”_ Theo interrupted. She looked at him with annoyance. Obviously this was no demon, but a flesh and blood person or animal that had grown men and women shaking in fear with ridiculous stories.

Theo regarded her with apprehension, almost like he wasn’t sure whether or not he should tell her something. He had a secret, she realized, and by the way everyone was staring between them, they all seemed to know it.

Finally, he revealed it.

_“The she-wolf is a woman who’s plagued this land for the last few years. Though she never comes this far east. She’s ferocious in her drive for blood and sadistic in her methods of getting it.”_

Her brows were furrowed as she shook her head. She didn’t understand why this had been kept from her. What was so different from this brutish grounder than any other?

Theo lifted his chin, blinking slowly. _“She’s the Heda’s lover.”_

_Oh._


	5. Unspeakable Secrets, Irreversible Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, woohoo. Sorry this took so long, RL is annoying.
> 
> FYI, nontu means father. Hmmm, I wonder why you'd need to know that word?
> 
> This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> And anyone who's reading my story, Give Me Hope In Silence, the next chapter might take a little longer than I originally thought because it apparently hates me and doesn't want to be written, no matter how long I sit and stare at a blank screen. So yea, sorry about that lol.
> 
> As always, enjoy!

Bellamy came to, slowly. His eyes barely opening. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry and he desperately needed water. He tried to call out for someone, but the only noise he seemed to be able to make was a small croak. He felt a cool hand along his forehead and his eyes closed again.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” said a smooth voice. “That means you have a chance now.”

He had no idea what she was saying. Didn’t understand a word of it. All he knew was the thirst that ravaged his throat. He tried swallowing again but he couldn’t seem to produce any saliva.

The next thing he knew, his head was being lifted and he felt something at his lips, and finally water. Sweet and refreshing. He lifted his hands, weakly, holding the woman’s on the cup to, afraid she would take it away. He gulped the cool liquid as quick as he could, breathing through his nose between swallows, as he felt the soothing water rush down his parched throat.

After Bellamy drank his fill, he lay his head back, groaning with pain. It was everywhere, he realized – his body was completely enveloped in it. Then, with a rush, it all came to him – iron shackles, battering fists, bloody knives, rancid food, and a constant planning of escape after escape.

They never worked, someone would always catch him, stop him, and then beat him for attempt.

He sat up suddenly, with a loud gasp – his panic so acute, he could no longer feel any of the physical pain.

“Shhh, shhh.”

Hands were on his face but he was blind to everything except a constant horror, dread, and never-ending misery. He gripped hard onto the hands that were on him, until his vision swam into focus, and then he roughly grabbed onto the blonde hair and soft face in front of him.

His breathing was heavy and rapid, and his teeth were clenched as he gripped his fingers harder.

A cry came out from the woman in front of him – the woman he was holding, he realized.

“Let me go,” the woman said, calmly.

His brows were furrowed, and his muscles were wound tight, and he was so… confused.

“What,” he breathed out. “Where am I? Where did you take me?”

He held onto her harder still, the uncertainty surrounding him, making him nervous.

“Let me go,” she said, through gritted teeth, “and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

She placed her hands gently on his forearms, and he looked at his own hands that held tightly onto her. He slowly released his fingers, taking his hands away from her. She leaned away, eyeing him cautiously.

She stood from the bed and turned away, before quickly coming back to his side. She held out a cup. “Drink,” she said, firmly.

He swallowed, hard, looking up at this mysterious woman. She was tall and slender, with curves he definitely would’ve noticed before, had he not been having a panic attack. The angles on her face were sharp, as she stood, looking down at him with a grin.

She shook the cup in front of his face. “Drink,” she repeated.

Bellamy eyed it, swallowing once again before licking his chapped lips.

“What is it?” he asked, suspiciously, his voice cracking.

“It will help with your pain.”

He looked up at her sharply. “I don’t have any pain,” he growled.

She raised her brows high and she smiled widely, her eyes full of amusement. “No?” She stepped away from him, raising her empty hand to the door. “Then you’ll want to be on your way, I’m sure. You have quite a distance to go.”

Bellamy glanced at her before looking at the door. He could feel it, intensely, the aches and pains that spanned his entire body.

His head turned back as she, once again, raised the cup. “Drink,” she said, with a smile. He blinked before finally taking it, looking her in the eye as he swallowed the bitter concoction of… whatever the hell it was.

She turned away from him then, busying herself on the opposite side of the hut.

He tried to remember how the hell he got here. What was he doing? Where were they taking him? He couldn’t bring up anything in his memory. Every time he tried to come up with something, all he could remember was a fist to the face, or a boot to the gut, and a constant fear about what tomorrow would bring.

He looked back at the woman as she sat at a low table, gutting a fish. “You said, you’d tell me everything you knew.”

She glanced at him for a moment, with her piercing eyes, before returning back to her fish. “I did, didn’t I,” she murmured. She inhaled, then slowly released it, continuing with her work. “It would appear that you and I have a mutual friend.”

He knitted his brow, more confused than he’d been before. “Friend?”

“Hmmm.” She set her knife down and began pulling out entrails, placing them into a bucket. “She might not refer to me as a friend, per se,” the woman said, with a smile. “But I’ve helped her out of more than one tight spot, now.”

“She?” Faces blurred behind his eyes as he tried to piece everything together. Then he remembered – he _had_ escaped. They’d unchained him from the pillar, binding his bloody wrists with rope since they were once again on the move, following the she-wolf along her gory rampage of vengeance. But something had spooked her, made her go off with her men, leaving him alone with four very bored guards.

One of them, Ivar, had been young – not yet a man, but no longer a boy – and Bellamy had liked him. He’d been kind, even taking flak from the others for it. He was eager to perfect his English and listen to Bellamy tell his tale of infiltrating the Mountain – the tale of the Mountain, was still a story that a lot of grounders seemed to respect. Except for the ones that wanted to kill him, of course. But Ivar had respected it, had respected _Bellamy_ , despite his own clan members wanting to eviscerate _‘that Skai man’._

Then Bellamy had killed him, used the kid’s respect against him, luring him in close before quietly stabbing him in the neck with a rusty piece of metal he’d found. Bellamy had grabbed him, holding on tightly to Ivar’s twitching body, covering his mouth to keep his dying moans from reaching the ears of his other guards. He’d watched as the life seeped from his young eyes along with the blood, as it’d sprayed on to Bellamy’s face and chest.

He’d been appalled at what he’d done, at first. Then he’d remembered _home_ , and how long it’d been since he’d seen it, and the torture he’d endured all this time – and fuck that kid. He’d been on the wrong side at the wrong time and that wasn’t Bellamy’s fault.

Then he’d made his escape, slipping away unnoticed. He ran, and he ran, and he hadn’t stopped running no matter how much his lungs burned, or how much his legs wanted to give out beneath him. He couldn’t stop. Not if he wanted to see home again – not if he wanted to see _them_ again.

But then the fucking guards found him anyway, and when they surrounded him, the feeling of loss was overwhelming. He’d been so close, and it was gone, that small twinge of excitement – of hope – snuffed out in a single moment. He’d been crushed and nothing had mattered anymore. He couldn’t _give_ anymore.

But then… a girl.

Bellamy’s eyes went wide as he finally remembered.

A young girl. She’d saved him… and he couldn’t remember what happened to her – still couldn’t remember how the hell he’d gotten _here_.

“Is she alright,” he asked.

The blonde woman looked up from her work. “Who.”

Bellamy frowned at her. “The girl, the friend. Where did she go?”

The woman raised a brow. “Back home, I suppose.”

His eyes scanned back and forth across the quilt on his legs, trying to remember what happened him – what happened to her. Because even though this woman claimed she was alright, Bellamy could tell, just by looking into her grey eyes, that this woman was smart and cunning. And he didn’t trust a word that came out of her mouth.

“Don’t worry,” she sighed. “I’m sure she’ll be back to visit you. She seemed rather fond of you.”

Bellamy laid his head back against the wall, feeling a pull of drowsiness. He didn’t want to sleep. There was nothing keeping the she-wolffrom finding him, and finally killing him like she threatened to do so many times before. He needed to get away as soon as possible, but the bed was soft and warm, and it’d been so long since he’d felt either. His eyes drooped, getting heavier as he fought off sleep.

“How do you know her?”

His eyes snapped open and he blinked. “What?”

“Your friend, how do you know her?”

Bellamy shook his head slowly, closing his eyes, trying to remember the girl’s face, but all he could remember was the fear and anger that had been in her eyes. “I don’t.”

She’d had dark hair… maybe black, he remembered. Her eyes had been filled with tears but he could still recall how dark they were as well. She was maybe ten – eleven. Perhaps they’d met briefly at one of the Ark’s trade meetings with the grounders – though he doubted it since the Ark hadn’t gone this far east in a long time. And grounder villages didn’t have many children, so he tended to remember most of the ones he had seen.

No, he didn’t know her, but he wished he could see her – thank her before he eventually left.

He looked up, noticing that it had gone quiet. The blonde was sitting motionless in her seat, her face a picture of contemplation before catching his eyes. She smiled at him shrewdly, and he felt a shiver of uneasiness run down his spine.    

“You look tired,” she said, “You should sleep. And when you wake, I’ll have food for you. You’re going to need to get your strength back.”

He was exhausted, but he was suddenly terrified to close his eyes.

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke shook her head as she looked at the gash on the boy’s arm. _“Nikolas, how did you get this?”_

Nikolas smiled widely. _“A tree by the fields. It’s hollow way, way up, and I tried to climb up it, so I could get inside-“_

Lainey let out a huff and Clarke turned to look at her. _“Do you know_ all _my hiding spots?”_ Lainey asked, her face scrunched up with annoyance.

Nikolas nodded as if it were the most obvious answer, ever.

Lainey rolled her eyes as she huffed again, turning back around to finish her task, tearing strips of linen.

Clarke sighed, holding up the boy’s bleeding arm. _“Well, no more climbing. Okay? This is going to need stitches.”_

Nikolas’ eyes went wide and Clarke was worried she had actually scared him.

_”I’ll have scar! Like, nontu!”_ he exclaimed, excitedly.

Or not.

Clarke smiled at him, shaking her head. _“Yes, you’ll have a scar. But let’s just stick with the one.”_ She took the boy’s chin, making him look her in the eye. _“I don’t want you coming to me full of scars like your nontu.”_ Nikolas shook his head, his little face serious, and Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. She leaned down without thinking, kissing him on the cheek.

She froze before turning away, quickly. She released a shaky breath. _“How is your nomon, today?”_ she asked.

Nikolas’ usually happy tone was sad. _“She doesn’t feel good again. She says you always make her feel better though.”_

She collected her needle and thread, trying to get take control of the storm raging within her. _“I’ll check on her after this.”_

When she turned back around Nikolas was holding out his bloody arm with his naïve smile, ignorant of the emotions she’d been desperately trying to hide.

She smiled back, before gently taking hold of his arm.

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke stood at the table, grinding herbs inside a pestle. She could feel Lainey’s eyes on her. “What?”

Lainey waited a beat. “It’s just… it’s been two days.”

Clarke said nothing, continuing to grind. She knew exactly how long it’s been. She’s been counting ever hour – every minute, since she’s seen him last.

“And we don’t know _anything_.”

Clarke’s nose flared as she pounded harder into the pestle. She knew she missed him. She’d always missed him, but seeing him again after all this time – touching him – it was like she’d been in a dream, and now she was awake, and a small part of her wanted to go back to the safety of sleep. Nothing can hurt you in a dream.

“And, wherever you left him… you don’t know that he’s safe.”

“He’s safe,” Clarke answered, quickly, not looking up from her work.

Lainey glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “But you don’t _know_ that.”

Clarke sighed. “Lainey-“

“What are you afraid of?”

Clarke froze before turning to her daughter. She could lie, tell her she’s not afraid of anything, that she’d left him in the hands of a capable healer and there was no need to check on him. Save herself the heartache which she knows this will all bring. Because she _knows_ how Bellamy will feel, and as much as finally coming face to face with it terrifies her, Lainey’s reaction scares her even more.

But she couldn’t keep this secret anymore. Not when father and daughter have been in each other’s presence – saved each other’s _lives_ – and they didn’t even know it.

It would be cruel. And as many horrible things as she’s done in her life – things that keep her awake at night, and haunt her during the day – she knows none of them have ever been done out of cruelty.

But it was time for her to stop being selfish.

She licked her lips, looking down, trying to come up with a way to say it, without blurting it out.

She got down on her knees and took her daughter’s hand, looking up into the girl’s worried face.

“Nomon,” Lainey said, slowly.

Clarke shook her head, signaling that she shouldn’t talk. “When I went to find him, I was so worried he would recognize me.” She paused. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to convince him to not tell anyone where I was.”

Lainey knitted her brow. “But, why? They can’t make you leave. They can’t make you go back there.” The girl squeezed her mother’s hand, giving her a smile. “This is your home now.”

Tears burned in Clarke’s eyes as she tried to hold them back. She gave Lainey a smile of her own, as sad and despondent as it was, before she shook her head. “No. It’s not,” she whispered

Lainey’s smile disappeared. “What do you mean?”

Clarke looked down, again, too ashamed to meet the girl’s eyes. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Lainey. And I’ve tried to run away from them.” The realization finally set in for her, too, as she spoke the truth to her daughter. “But running doesn’t help – not really – because everything you do, is always with you. The choices you make _stay_ with you.”

“You’re talking about the Mountain?”

Everyone knew the story of Clarke and the Mountain. It was talked about in all grounder villages – one of the many reasons why she no longer left theirs. She couldn’t stand the staring and whispering, as if she’d done some amazing deed, killing a great foe.

She’d slaughtered hundreds of innocent people, and that was the truth of it. But she tried to keep it to herself, not many people knew how she really felt about it. But she couldn’t keep it from Lainey, the girl had seen how the guilt and shame sometimes became too much, making Clarke almost catatonic for hours at a time.

Clarke released a soft breath, she’d always regret making Lainey see that. “Partly.” She was dragging this out too long, trying to find a way to defend herself before even telling her the truth. “That man, the Skai person, when I finally found him, _I_ knew _him_.” Lainey didn’t seem particularly surprised, Clarke was from the Ark too after all. “He was… a _friend_.”

Her daughter raised her brows at that. “Then if he’s really a friend, he won’t tell anyone where you are, nomon. Don’t you trust him?” Lainey’s brows came back down, scrunching together with annoyance. “Aren’t you _worried_ about him?”

Clarke placed a hand on Lainey’s chest. “He’s safe, Lainey. I promise. But yes, I am worried about him, and I _do_ trust him.” She thought of all the times Bellamy had been there, all the times he’d done what she asked, and then some. Of course she trusted him. “More than anyone,” she whispered.

Silent tears fell slowly from her cheeks as she looked at her very confused daughter. “It’s not about trust, and it’s not that, I’m not worried about him, or that I don’t care.” She pressed her lips together before continuing. “I’m just so scared. You were right, I _am_ afraid. I’m afraid you’ll hate me.”

Lainey’s face relaxed as she smiled widely. “Nomon, I could never hate you. Why would I?”

Panic was swirling inside her the closer she got to the truth. “Because I kept it from you. Kept _him_ from you.”

The girl’s face fell, confused once more. “Kept, what?”

Clarke sniffed, her back going rigid as she looked hard into Lainey’s eyes. “He’s your father. The Skai person.” She waited with bated breath.

Lainey didn’t move. Only staring at Clarke with a bewildered look on her face.

“Your nontu,” Clarke clarified.

“I know what father means,” Lainey said slowly.

Clarke looked down, nodding her head. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and her throat was so tight it hurt, as she waited for her daughter’s reaction.

But nothing came. She didn’t say anything at all, until Clarke looked up into her now angry face, once again.

“I want to see him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you hate me now?
> 
> I'm sorry, you guys lol. I know cliffhangers suck, but chapter 6 is halfway done. I was actually thinking about waiting to post 5 and 6 together, but I assumed you'd at least want this. I hope I assumed correctly lol.
> 
> And now I can safely say Bellarke will be reunited - and both conscious - next chapter!
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for reading!


	6. A Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, this took me forever. I can't tell you how many times I've reread this chapter. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it, but I think it's just time for me to post it already. But I hope you love it, and I hope it's everything you've all been waiting for. I apologize for any mistakes. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Clarke sat in a small, rickety chair in the longhouse, looking down at the woman lying in front of her. _“How’s your pain today, Tyra?”_

The woman gave her a sweet smile. _“Manageable.”_

Clarke lifted her brows and leaned over her. _“Oh, really?”_ she said, with a knowing grin. _“Nikolas tells me differently.”_

Tyra was dying, and there was nothing Clarke could do. She was quite possibly the kindest woman Clarke had ever met, and she couldn’t save her.

Tyra gave a small laugh, turning her head to look at her son playing on the ground. _“He’s a good boy.”_

Clarke nodded as she laid her hand on the other woman’s – trying to give her comfort the only way she could. Tyra refused most pain relieving medicines that Clarke tried to give her – she said it dulled her senses, and she wanted to be wide awake for what life she had left.

_”He looks just like his father,”_ Tyra noted.

Nikolas was definitely the spitting image of Theo. Everything from his straight nose, blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, were all marks of Theo. He’d grow to be tall and broad like his father too, Clarke thought, as she watched the boy. But unlike his father, Nikolas wasn’t at all the warrior. He was soft… _weak_ , and it terrified her.

_“And he’s just as strong as his mother,”_ the woman whispered.

Clarke’s breathing faltered and she froze, watching Nikolas as he sat by the fire pit, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, setting up his one wooden warrior. She released a heavy breath before shaking her head. _“I don’t want to talk about that.”_

_“I’m dying, Clarke.”_

Clarke turned to her swiftly, glaring down at the pale woman. _“That doesn’t change anything,”_ she hissed.

Tyra knitted her brow as her eyes locked onto Clarke’s. _“It changes everything.”_

Clarke’s heart squeezed in her chest. This was what she’d always wanted, only made possible by the death of this woman – who deserved so much better – and coming at a time when she knew she wouldn’t be here for long.

When Bellamy found out about Lainey, he would take her back to Camp Jaha with him. He wouldn’t be separated from her anymore, she was sure, and if she were honest with herself, she didn’t want Lainey to be without _him_ anymore. Her daughter deserved to have her father in her life, especially a father like Bellamy. But Clarke wouldn’t leave her either. It just wasn’t possible.

She turned back to the towheaded boy. But she would have to make an impossible choice anyways.

She bit the inside of her cheeks as she turned to look at Tyra. _“Do you want anything for your pain,”_ she asked, after a beat.

The woman watched her with sad eyes, aware of Clarke’s decision. _“No.”_

xxxxxxxxx

“Slow down,” Clarke demanded, with a ragged breath. She and Lainey had been walking for a solid hour and she knew they were getting close.

Lainey didn’t slow at all, instead she seemed to walk a little faster.

“Lainey.” Clarke tried getting closer to the girl, but only ended up stumbling. “ _Lainey_.”

The girl continued walking, ignoring her mother as if she never even heard her. Clarke frowned, she knew Lainey was angry, had every right to be, but Clarke was still her mother and there was no way in hell she was going to let her act like this.

“Lainey, _stop_ , right now.”

Lainey obviously recognized Clarke’s angry mom voice, and stopped in her tracks. Though she refused to turn around, Clarke noticed. She made her way in front of the girl, breathing hard from their quick pace. She looked down at her but Lainey refused to meet her eyes, staring straight ahead.

Clarke let out a huff. “Talk to me.”

Lainey looked up at her, her face was such a mask of disappointed anger that Clarke felt it penetrate her very core. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

“You lied,” Lainey accused.

Clarke closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her lips together. “Lainey-“

“You told me that I didn’t _have_ a father. You told me that he was _dead_.”

Clarke waited a beat, nodding her head. “I did.”

Lainey’s eyes went wide as she stared at Clarke, her eyes a mix of confusion and resentment. “Why would you do that?”

Why did she do that? There were so many answers to that question, and she knew not one of them was good enough for the angry girl in front of her. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again,” she said, in a small voice. “I didn’t think you’d ever see him, and I just…” She shrugged. “I thought it would be easier.”

Lainey shook her head. “Easier for who? Me?” Her dark eyes filled with such rage, Clarke took a step back. “No. You did this – all of this – for yourself. And you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”

They stood there, facing each other. Clarke wanting desperately to take away the hurt in her daughter’s eyes.

“It’s about time you showed up.”

Both, mother and daughter turned in surprise.

“Runa,” Clarke muttered.

“And who is this lovely girl?” Runa asked, with a smirk, sauntering up to them slowly. “Let me guess. You must be Lainey.”

Lainey’s eyes went wide, looking quickly to Clarke.

Clarke set her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I know her. She’s caring for… the Skai person.”

Lainey shrugged Clarke’s hand away. Clarke glanced down before her sad eyes were caught by Runa’s clever ones.

“Did my nomon tell you about me,” Lainey asked.

Runa gave her a kind smile, bending over to come face to face with the girl. “No.” She tilted her head. “I _know_ you. We’ve met before.”

Lainey frowned, glancing up at Clarke. “I’ve never met you before.”

Runa raised her brows, grey eyes lighting up in joy. “Oh, but you have. You just don’t remember. You were very young. And very small.”

Lainey looked at her shrewdly. “You mean I was a baby.”

Runa’s smile grew wide, showing her straight white teeth. “Yes, you were a baby. I helped deliver you.”

The girl’s eyes went wide. “Why haven’t I seen you before?” She looked around at their surroundings. “Why are you alone in the woods?”

Clarke thought that, that was just about enough of this reunion. “Why are you out here? You’re supposed to be taking care of him?”

Runa looked up, her smile melting back into its usual smirk as she stood straight. “Don’t worry, he’s not dying. At least not of anything except for starvation. He’s a very hungry man – eats quite a bit,” she explained, lifting her basket of mushrooms.

“Can I see him?” Lainey asked.

Runa looked at the girl once more, studying her, Clarke thought making the unease she always felt around this woman ten times worse. “Of course you can.” Runa gestured behind her, through a dark mass of trees. “It’s straight through there.”

With one last look at Clarke, Lainey began to tread the dark path.

Both women watched her as she disappeared.

“They look just alike,” Runa noted.

Clarke’s eyes snapped to her, glaring at her profile before Runa finally turned – blue eyes clashing with grey.

“I can’t wait to see what will come of _that_ reunion.”

Clarke huffed as she rolled her eyes. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

Runa laughed abruptly, a low and throaty sound. Clarke was dumbfounded by how _real_ it was. Nothing at all like the silvery, honeyed words this woman normally spoke.

“So many things, Klark kom Skaikru.” She came up close to Clarke, her tall form making Clarke look up to meet her eyes. “But I always know everything about you.”

Fear twisted inside her, and as much as she tried to hide it, she already knew Runa could see it. She could always see right through her. “What do you want?” Clarke growled.

Runa watched her with amusement. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“For doing this,” she said, gesturing in the direction Lainey walked away. “For saving him. What do you want?”

There was an uncomfortable moment of staring before Runa finally answered. “I want many things. But from you, I only want a promise.”

Clarke released a breath of annoyance. “ _What_ promise?”

Runa’s lips twitched. “A promise that when the times comes… I’ll have your support.”

Clarke stared at her, frozen in shock. That was not at all what she’d been expecting. Finally, she broke from her stupor, shaking her head in confusion. “Support?”

Runa stepped away, her face becoming lighter. “You’ll know when the time comes,” she said, cryptically, turning and walking in the direction of her hut.

xxxxxxxxx

His eyes traced over the map Runa had given him. He had it laid out across his lap as he sat up in bed. She refused to let him leave, saying that if he really wanted to live he needed a chance to heal. And as much as Bellamy wanted to start his trip home, he knew she was right. But looking at her rough map now, Camp Jaha didn’t seem that far away, three maybe four days of walking. He knew he could make it, but most of all, he knew he had to leave before he was found.

He would need provisions before he left, and he was sure his very generous host would provide some for him. She seemed strangely worried about keeping him alive. And he truly doubted it was because a “friend” had asked her to. When he’d asked her why she cared so much, she’d only answered that all things come around.

He glanced back down at the map, looking over the terrain he would have to cover. There was a swamp between here and Jaha, and he’d have no choice but to go around it. He estimated it would add another two days to the trip.

He sighed as he closed his eyes. So rounding, it would take about a week to make it back home. As happy as he was to be this close, he knew he still had a ways to go. It would be a hard trek with his injuries, not to mention dangerous. Besides the deadly plants and animals, there were the people to consider. Hidden all around the area were villages full of cannibalistic grounders who weren’t affiliated with any clans. Something the Ice Nation were kind enough warn them about _after_ they ran into one. And of course there was the group that was sure to be hunting him.

The she-wolf would not be happy with his escape.

Her fiery red hair and blood stained face suddenly appeared behind his closed eyes, and he jumped as his eyes snapped open, expecting the demon woman to be standing beside him.

His heart beat hard inside his chest as his breath came in heavy pants, his stomach clenching in the most painful way. He swallowed hard as he dropped his head against the wall, willing his body to relax. He was not too insecure with his masculinity to admit that she terrified him, any sane person would be. He’d seen her do things – things he could never imagine doing to another human being.

Even if he got away, and never saw that crazy bitch again, he knew her face would follow him always. The things he endured at her hands, the things he’d had to watch others endure – they would always be with him. She would forever be in his nightmares. She _was_ his nightmare.

The door opened slowly, and he eyed it with apprehension. He really needed to talk to that woman about giving him a damn weapon.

He feared the demon, he expected Runa, but it ended up being neither.

Instead, a young girl stood in the doorway, light streaming in from behind her short frame. Her hair was long and dark, held away from her face with braids. It was her, he realized, the girl who had saved him. She _had_ returned.

She slowly made her way closer, staring at him in a way that made him hesitate to greet her. Like she was in awe of him. She stopped halfway between the door and his bed, almost like she was afraid to come any closer.

He cleared his throat, swallowing the last of his remaining fear. “Hi,” he said, gently. Afraid of scaring her. She seemed… skittish around him. But that wasn’t exactly right, it was more like… worried? Nervous?

She waited a long beat before answering back. “Hi,” she mumbled.

He didn’t know what to say. Unsure of how to make her more comfortable in his presence. He finally decided to say what he’d been wanting to since he saw her last.

“Thank you.” It was solemn, and he meant it with his whole heart.

Her eyes went wide as her brows rose high on her forehead. “You remember?”

How could she think he wouldn’t remember? She was the only reason why he was alive, why he was _free_ after three months of torture. He let out a huff of laughter. “Of course I remember. I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.”

She shook her head. “Neither would I. I mean, you saved me too.”

He gave her a smile. “I was only returning the favor.” When the grounder had held the knife to her throat and she stared at Bellamy with her big, brown pleading eyes, he’d been ready to give up, give in. He was tired of being in pain, of always being afraid. He truly believed at that moment, that he would never see home again. But this girl that they placed in front of him, this girl he didn’t know – this girl fought for him, was about to die for him.

And he couldn’t let that happen.

He’d found what little strength and resolve he’d had left, and he’d decided he was going to use it to save her. If he’d died right then and there it would’ve been okay, because she would live, and it all would’ve been worth it – even his failed escape attempt.

A bashful grin came across her face, and he swore it lit him up inside. All the pain, all the fear; it disappeared for a moment, in the face of this brave girl who risked her life to save him.

“You look different,” she said, timidly, her eyes roving down his bruised and battered torso. “Clean.”

He laughed again, twice in a span of only a few minutes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe clean _er_.”

She came closer, stepping into the light, her bright smile shining on her face, and his breath caught painfully in his throat. His smile melted away and he locked his jaw against the onslaught of emotions that suddenly slammed into him.

She looked like Penny and Cora, so much so that his chest twisted with the homesickness that he’d been pushing deep inside himself. He’d known if he thought about his girls, he’d be too much of a mess to escape, to survive. So he didn’t. He pushed it away – pushed _them_ away.

But now here it was, ugly and raw, tears blurring his vision, and he wanted nothing more than just to _see_ them. He looked back up at the now worried girl, and he realized he practically _was_ seeing them.

He sniffed loudly as he ran his hand down his face, trying to take control of the emotional whirlwind inside of himself.

“Are you alright,” she asked, hesitantly.

He nodded his head, watching her as she eyed him warily. He could see the differences between them now, she was older and taller, her hair was a lighter shade and her skin was a darker tone. But the similarities were still overwhelming.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice sounding guttural and rough as it passed through his tight throat. She seemed to hesitate, and he hoped he hadn’t scared her. But instead of running away she came closer, so close he could see something else in her, in the shape of her jaw and the roundness of her face – some _one_ else.

“Lainey,” she answered, softly.

She looked like-

The door opened again, and again he expected Runa, and again he was very mistaken. It was absolutely the last person he ever thought he’d ever see, much less here… now.

His breath became short and his body taut as he stared at what had to be a vision in front of him. She _couldn’t_ be real. After nearly ten years of her only living in his memories, it almost felt like she had never existed at all.

“Clarke.”

xxxxxxxxx

The moment she was able to see into the hut, both sets of eyes were on her. One full of annoyance and the other full of astonishment.

She looked between them both, and was surprised by the tears that blurred her vision when she saw the two of them together. It only became worse when she heard his voice, deep and rough, as it said her name.

Her mind flashed back to the last time she’d heard it, pleading with her to stay – to stay with him, just as he’d stayed with her. And when she’d turned away from him, she’d heard him one last time.

_“May we meet again.”_

It’d been low and quiet, and she hadn’t been meant to hear it. But she did, and it made her falter in her steps with its certainty.

She watched him as his dark eyes roved over her form, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. It made her squirm, and she licked her lips before taking the bottom one between her teeth. His eyes returned to her face, and his brows furrowed as he glared at her. The sudden change surprised her, and she held her breath, waiting for his wrath.

But instead his eyes quickly went to Lainey, studying her before coming back to Clarke. She saw it in his face, the moment he finally understood – finally knew. His face relaxing, falling into such a look of wretched sorrow, it broke her heart and a tear finally did fall, sliding its way down her cheek.

He tilted his head, meeting her eyes. “No,” he whispered.

Clarke released a heavy breath, turning to Lainey. “Go wait outside, please,” she said, as she moved away from the door.

Lainey frowned at her. “I don’t want to.”

Clarke didn’t want to yell at her daughter, didn’t want to fight with her here. But the conversation she was about to have was not one she wanted to have in front of her.

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you,” she said, firmly. “Go outside.” When the girl still didn’t move Clarke raised her brows, her blue eyes piercing into Lainey’s brown ones. “ _Now_.”

The girl spared another glance at Bellamy before turning and stomping from the hut. Clarke closed the door, taking a moment to lean her forehead against it before turning back around. She came up slowly, her body tense as she felt his gaze on her.

When their eyes met she was surprised to see that his weren’t filled with anger like she was afraid of, only grief.

And it was so much worse.

The silent tension was so thick, she thought if she stood there any longer she might suffocate in it. But then Bellamy finally broke it.

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

She crossed her arms as she shook her head. “I can’t,” she said with regret.

He huffed, dropping his head on the wall behind him again, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. He swallowed and she watched his throat as it worked, his adam’s apple bobbing. She hurt him in a way she could never take back. He’d lost years with Lainey, missed things that no parent should have to miss. He would never forgive her.

“Why?” he asked, miserably.

Clarke licked her lips again, squeezing her arms. “I made a mistake.”

He snorted derisively, shaking his head against the wall. “Yeah.”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

Bellamy turned to her sharply. “Fuck that,” he growled. His anger was much preferred over the brokenhearted anguish. “Why the hell didn’t you come back?”

“It’s complicated-“

“ _Complicated_?”

She stared hard into his eyes, shaking her head, willing him to understand. She couldn’t give him what he wanted. Not right now.

“I don’t understand how…” His voice rose high before petering out and he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, Clarke suspected. “How can it be complicated?” he asked, with an even tone. “You find out you’re pregnant, alone in the woods, so you come home.” He looked at her then, his eyes demanding. “It’s not complicated.”

Clarke nodded, looking down at her feet. “I… made a deal – a promise. I couldn’t back out of it,” she explained.

He looked at her like she was crazy. “What kind of answer is that?”

“It’s the truth, Bellamy.”

He sat up quickly, inhaling sharply through his nose, clenching his jaw as he held onto his bruised side.

Clarke rushed over, grabbing onto his arm.

“She wrapped your chest,” she noted with surprise.

He groaned, face twisted in pain. “Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth. “She thinks they’re bruised. Maybe broken.”

Clarke lifted his arm gently, and began unwrapping the bindings from his chest. He smelled awful, and he was still filthy, and she really just wished she could stay here to care for him like he obviously needed, because no matter what Runa said, Clarke _was_ a healer, and she’d be damned if she was going to let that woman make her feel otherwise.

“What the hell are you doing?” he grunted. He laid his arm on her shoulder, unable to keep it up anymore, and she nearly sighed with pleasure when she felt the weight of it.

She looked up at him, continuing to unwrap. “She shouldn’t have wrapped them.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “Even _I_ know you should wrap broken ribs.”

“For the pain, yes.” She could feel the hairs of his forearm as they tickled her cheek, and she wanted nothing more than to press her face against his warm skin, take the comfort she knew it could give, but she was too afraid of his reaction. “ _You_ are lying here in this bed, day in and day out, weak, hurt, barely breathing, and you’re going to get pneumonia.”

She finished with the bindings, running her fingers lightly across his chest, checking the cuts and bruises that littered it, inspecting the stab wound on his shoulder. She noticed the he’d gone still, barely breathing.

Her fingers stopped in its trek, only her thumb moving back and forth in a soothing caress. His skin was smooth and warm beneath her fingers. “How bad is the pain?” she whispered.

He turned to her slowly. He was so close, his soulful brown eyes roaming over her heated face, and she could no longer deny the pull of them as she leaned in, rubbing her cheek against his. He released a heavy breath, the warmth of it sending shivers down her spine.

His beard was coarse and he still smelled horrible, but none of it mattered because he was here, and they were together.

She was no longer alone.

His hand slid up to her head, holding her against him as he nuzzled the curve between her neck and her shoulder. She whimpered at the feel of his cool lips on her overheated skin, and pushed herself closer to him, climbing on the bed to straddle his lap. He grunted with her movement and for a moment she worried about his pain, but then he wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her forward.

Everything after that became frantic, with grasping fingers and kissing lips, and all she knew was that she finally felt whole and happy.

Then she lifted her head, looking down at him with so much love. She wasn’t afraid of it now, wasn’t afraid to tell him – to show him – because she’d lived these ten years without him and she knew without a doubt that, that’s how she felt – she loved him.

But before she could say anything, she watched in horror as his eyes filled with shame.

“Don’t you two look cozy.”

Clarke gasped, falling from the bed in her haste to climb off of Bellamy – he hadn’t even tried to catch her. She stood as gracefully as she could, after having landed face down in the dirt.

“What do you want,” she snapped at the other woman.

Runa stood in the doorway, blocking Clarke’s view of the outside. “I just thought I should warn you that there’s not much more I can do to keep the lovely Lainey from bursting in here.”

Clarke’s eyes went wide as she began to quickly straighten her clothes.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I came to check first.” Clarke gave her an angry look. She and Bellamy’s lives were none of this woman’s business, and she had no right to judge.

Lainey came in from behind her, her stance tall and her face serious. “I want to stay here,” she announced.

Clarke knitted her brows as she tilted her head. “What?”

Lainey inhaled, as if preparing for a speech – or a fight. “You don’t need me in the village, no one will notice if I’m gone. And besides, Runa said she’s more than happy to let me stay.”

Clarke gave Runa a look of irritation before turning back to her daughter. “Absolutely not.”

Lainey clenched her small fists and Clarke knew that this was not going to end well. “You can’t make me go,” she declared.

“ _Lainey_ -“

“I don’t care what you say, anymore. I’m not going back-“

“Yes you are,” Bellamy said, calmly.

Clarke turned to him, feeling something akin to annoyance at his interference. She could handle her daughter, had been for the last nine years.

_And whose fault is that_ , her mind whispered.

Lainey came closer, her hand coming up to hold the back of a small chair, gripping it till her knuckles turned white. “She told you?” she asked, hesitantly. A guarded look on her face.

Clarke’s heart ached for her as she saw the girl’s fear. She wished she could tell Lainey what she already knew, that she _had_ nothing to fear when it came to Bellamy’s approval, he already loved her more than life itself. Because that’s who he was, that’s who her father was.

Bellamy only nodded, which made Clarke want to slap him upside the head because his noncommittal gesture wasn’t helping with Lainey’s apprehension.

Lainey looked down, her thumbnail digging into the wooden chair. “Are you mad?”

Bellamy inhaled sharply, forgetting about his ribs, and he reached over, holding a hand tightly to his side. “No,” he groaned. He smiled at Lainey, and Clarke realized how much she missed his smile, couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it. “I’m excited,” he said.

Lainey’s lips parted and Clarke could see the girl’s guarded exterior melting away.

“I’m excited to get to know you.”

And just like that, Lainey gave him a smile that matched his own.

Joy filled Clarke’s chest as she watched father and daughter smile so cheerfully at one another. They both deserved to have each other in their lives. But her stomach clenched as she remembered that she was the reason why they hadn’t been, until now.

“So I can stay?”

She may be happy with their reunion, but there was no way in hell she was letting her daughter stay here.

“No,” both Clarke and Bellamy answered together. Clarke glanced at him, meeting his eyes quickly before looking back at Lainey.

“No, you can’t stay here.”

“But nomon-“

“Clarke’s rig-“ Bellamy took a slow, deep breath, holding his hand harder against his ribs. “Your _mother_ is right. You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous, and wherever home is, it’s safer than this place.”

Lainey seemed to accept this answer, grudgingly. “But you’ll leave, and I won’t see you again.”

Bellamy eyed her sadly, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere right now. Okay?”

Lainey swallowed, and Clarke could see tears fill her eyes. She wanted to comfort her, hold her close and stroke her long hair. But she knew Lainey wouldn’t allow it.

“Lainey,” Bellamy said, solemnly, making the girl look up. “I won’t leave you.” He said it firmly, assuredly, and anyone who heard it would believe him. Clarke believed him, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she saw Camp Jaha once more.


	7. Wanheda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I totally named my chapter after I word I don't even know the real meaning of, but I can't help it because that little bit of spoiler made me so excited for season 3! So I'm just going to pretend that Wanheda means Commander of Death, like a lot of people seem to be suspecting, and not dead commander, like it literally translates as. Hopefully I'm right, otherwise this is going to be just a little bit embarrassing, lol.
> 
> No Bellarke in this chapter, sadly. Actually, there's no Bellamy at all, because this chapter is all flashback. What has Clarke been up to these past ten years, you ask? Well, here it is... or part of it anyway. The rest of her flashback story will be coming later.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes you might find.
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this one, because I think it might be my favorite!

Clarke stumbled, falling on her hands and knees as the rain fell hard around her, drowning out her cries. She placed a hand on her swollen belly, trying to calm herself in the downpour. She stood again carefully, shivering as drops of water slid down her spine. She continued on, plodding through the thick underbrush.

Spring had brought growth to the forest in a way she had never imagined on the Ark. She thought it had been lush and vibrant before, when they’d first landed, but it was nothing compared to the sudden sprouting of vegetation around her.

Pain suddenly ripped through her abdomen and she cried out again.

She’d barely eaten in days, her traps always coming up empty. She thought life after winter would be easier, if she could just wait out the cold then everything would be fine. But with the coming of spring also came the hindrance of her pregnancy.

She hadn’t known. Not for a long time. Too caught up in her own grief and the misery that seemed to surround her. She stayed in Lincoln’s cave at first, too afraid to venture out further. But when she’d almost been seen by a Guard patrol, she knew it was time to either go home or leave – truly leave. So she left, walked for days, bypassing a small village she had accidentally come across.

Then the snow came.

It was magical at first as it slowly fell to the ground, like feathers, she’d thought. Then it fell harder, and it became colder, and she knew she would die if she didn’t find some real shelter soon.

Eventually she’d found one, an old dwelling that was all but falling apart. It hadn’t been ideal, but it did the job, keeping her out of the snow and the cold wind. But with scarcely any food and freezing temperatures it had still been beyond difficult, miserable.

She’d spent her days foraging and her nights thinking of everything that had happened to get her here. How _did_ it happen, the change from idealistic young girl to death itself?

Then she’d begun to notice the changes in her body that she could no longer ignore, sore breasts and sudden nausea being just a few. She did the math, remembering that her menstrual flow had started soon after Murphy’s return to camp, bringing the fever with him. She’d been surprised, having never before had a period, it was strictly regulated on the Ark, but she’d been too busy and worried about the fever and the coming grounder attack to think much about it.

But then she was pregnant. And alone in the woods in the middle of winter.

She wanted to go back. But she’d known in this weather, she would never make it.

So she’d stayed in her little shelter until spring. Then the pain started. It was tolerable if she didn’t move, but that wasn’t an option if she wanted to survive.

While out setting traps, the pain in her abdomen had become unbearable, and she knew she needed help as soon as possible.

And so here she was now, standing in the pouring rain that plastered her hair to her face, as she held fast to her tender belly. She didn’t know where she was going, only knew she had to find someone, anyone before her and her baby died.

The rain came harder, reducing her visibility as she tried to blink the water away. She stepped gingerly over roots and caught herself when she slipped in the mud. Her breathing was heavy and her muscles burned but she kept going because this was her baby – this was _Bellamy’s_ baby – and she had to save it, save the little piece of him she had left.

She slipped again, not able to catch herself in time before falling hard onto the muddy ground. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, droplets of rain splashing up out of the puddle she landed in and hitting her in the face.

When the agony in her stomach passed, she rolled over and opened her eyes, dropping her head back on the ground with a splash. She stared up into the canopy above her, blinking against the rain, watching as it fell from the dark clouds.

_What the hell am I doing?_

She wished she were home. Wished she were with her friends, her family. Because that’s what they were, what was left of the 100, they were her family and she left them – all of them – in her haste to run from what she’d done.

What she’d told Bellamy was true, she would’ve seen the faces of the people that she’d killed in the faces of the people she’d saved. But now she thinks that, that might’ve been okay. That watching Monty smile at Miller, and Raven sass _everyone_ , and Harper heal from her wounds, might’ve made it better, might’ve made it feel like what she’d done was worth it – even if she could never forget it.

But it was too late now. She’d made her choice and now she was here, lying in the mud under a gloomy sky, probably dying. Her baby dying.

She turned her face away from the rain, looking through the tall trees. They were so green, she thought, so full of life. She’d give anything to be able to draw them, now that she’s seen them with her own eyes.

She’s never had any time, she realizes. Time to enjoy the beauty of the planet she’d always dreamed about. It’s a travesty really, because it was stunning in its beauty, and no one ever noticed. Too busy fighting each other instead of noticing the splendor around them.

She squinted. There was something else there though. A shape of something hidden within the forest. She rolled over getting to her knees before once again climbing to her feet. She stumbled forward, determination filling her chest as she got closer. Her breathing faltered as she finally saw what it was.

A hut.

Not abandoned either. It looked warm and inviting. Someone lived there.

She smiled with relief and began to walk faster, practically running as fast as she could with her pregnant belly. She slammed her body against the door, pounding and scratching against it. She yelled out.

The little spurt of energy that she’d found quickly disappeared, seeping from her body, and she slid slowly to the ground, leaning heavily on the wooden door.

Someone had to be inside, she could feel the warmth from the cracks. She closed her eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. Her mind wandered, becoming fuzzy and full cobwebs. She saw faces behind her closed eyes. Her mother and Raven, Bellamy and Octavia, Harper and Monty. Once again she wished for home. The warmth of it. The contentedness of being around the people she cared for.

The door opened abruptly and she fell inside, hitting her head hard on the dirt floor. She opened her eyes but her vision was blurry. All she saw was orange until something moved above her, hovering over her head. And then nothing.

xxxxxxxxx

She was pleasantly warm as a hand smoothed her hair back from her face, brushing a thumb soothingly against her forehead.

She sighed in contentment.

“Mom?” she whispered. She felt the hand move, brushing the backs of its fingers along her temple. She licked her dry lips, slowly opening her bleary eyes. There was a woman next to her, leaning over her inert form. “Mom?” she asked, again.

_“You’re okay now.”_

That most definitely was _not_ her mother. The voice was too smooth, too soft. Not to mention, not English.

Clarke felt a small pang of fear in her chest as her vision slowly came back into focus. The woman watched her with light grey eyes and a small grin. Her long hair was a mess of blonde curls that fell down her back and her face was full of sharp angles. She looked at Clarke like she had some sort of secret, like she knew something – many things – that no one else did.

“Who are you?” Clarke asked, voice trembling.

The woman’s grin turned into a smile, and despite the warning deep inside her to be wary, Clarke _wanted_ to trust her.

“My name is Runa. And who are you?” Runa asked with amusement.

Clarke hesitated, scared and unsure of who to trust anymore. “Clarke,” she finally answered.

Runa’s eyes went wide, but her smile never left her face. “Klark kom Skaikru?”

Clarke released a heavy breath, nodding her head slowly.

Runa’s face softened as a strange look crossed it. “Well, you are very welcome here, Clarke.”

“Where am I?” Clarke asked in confusion.

“At my home.”

The hut, Clarke suddenly realized. _Her baby!_ She sat up quickly, nearly bumping heads with the other blonde as she held on to her stomach. “What happened?” she asked with panic, “What happened to my baby?” She didn’t feel any pain anymore, and she wasn’t totally sure if that was good or bad.

Runa placed a gentle hand on Clarke’s. “I think its okay,” she said, calmly.

Fear swam inside her as she looked down at her stomach. “You _think_?”

Runa tilted her head, catching Clarke’s frightened eyes. “You’re not bleeding and you’re not having contractions. Are you still in pain?”

Clarke shook her head.

“How far along are you?”

She swallowed hard, trying to calm her nerves. “Um, six months maybe. I’m not really sure how much time has gone by.”

The woman nodded as she moved her hand to rest beside Clarke’s, on her swollen belly. “We won’t be able to tell anything till the baby comes.” Then she moved it back atop Clarke’s once again, squeezing her hand gently. “But I really do think you’re both okay.”

Clarke’s nose flared as she inhaled deeply, looking into the sparkling eyes of this mysterious woman. “Thank you,” she whispered, earnestly.

Runa shook her head. “I didn’t do anything… yet.”

Clarke knitted her brows.

“You’ll stay with me,” the woman announced. “I’ll watch you till it’s time. Then I’ll help you with the bir-“

“I have to go home,” Clarke said, abruptly. “I can’t stay here.”

Runa’s face was serious, her grin having disappeared. “You can’t leave.” Clarke glared at her. “The only chance both you and this baby have, is to stay in this bed.”

It felt as if her whole body deflated when she heard what Runa said, because Clarke knew she was right. The pain she’d been having for weeks had only intensified the more she moved, walking for miles laying and checking her traps. She would be needlessly putting her and her baby at risk trekking back to Camp Jaha now.

She would have plenty of time after the baby was born to finally return back home.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

xxxxxxxxx

Days and weeks passed as Clarke spent the majority of her time lying in the small bed. She cried with happiness and relief when she felt a small flutter move within her once again – her baby was okay, and so was she.

She soon grew bored, begging Runa for any kind of work to pass the time, but she was comfortable, something she hadn’t felt in a while, and almost… excited, something she hadn’t felt in even longer. Things seemed to be working out now. Her baby was okay, and when it was finally born, she would take it home.

They would be angry with her, the thought making her feel apprehensive about her return, but she knew it wouldn’t last forever. They would forgive her, just as she would learn to forgive herself.

“Where is the father?” Runa asked one night while they watched the fire as it danced in the small pit. Clarke had grown closer to the woman, spending hours talking of herbs, and teas, and ointments. Clarke learned of the fierce intelligence that lay behind Runa’s sharp grey eyes, and her abundant knowledge of healing and surviving alone in the wilderness.

But that was all she knew. Runa kept just about everything else in her life to herself. Clarke couldn’t blame her for it, choosing to do the same. Runa seemed to understand this, so when she asked Clarke where the father of her baby was, she couldn’t help but glare at the woman in surprise.

Clarke took a deep breath, a memory of Bellamy flitting through her mind, before disappearing just as quickly. “Home,” she answered, nonchalantly, trying not to give away the emotions rising within her.

“Why are you not at home?”

Runa stared into the fire as Clarke gaped at her profile, wondering where all this curiosity was coming from. Finally Runa turned her eyes, locking with Clarke’s.

She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to answer the question, instead a memory of a dying Maya crossed her vision, making her eyes grow wet with guilt.

“You’re running.”

It wasn’t a question, Clarke noticed.

Runa smiled at her kindly. “It’s okay. Sometimes, the past is too much to bear. Sometimes, we must find a new path.”

Clarke frowned as anger erupted within her. Who did this woman think she was to tell her what _she_ thinks she must do?

“Is that what _you’re_ doing, living alone in the woods?” she snapped, “Finding a new path?”

Runa’s smile never faltered. “Yes.”

Clarke blinked. She’d been expecting an explanation, some sort of defense as to why she had chosen this life of solitude.

That was something else she learned about her new friend – nothing she did or said was ever what you expected.

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke threw down the shirt she was mending, huffing with frustration. Runa had been gone for hours, longer than she’d ever left before. Clarke knew the woman could handle herself, or at least that was the impression she gave, so blasé about everything happening around her. But a part of Clarke worried for her. Just because she seemed like she knew about everything that could and would happened, that didn’t mean she did.

Runa was just as human as anybody else. Just as vulnerable.

Her stomach clenched with worry and she realized that she needed to pee… again. She rolled her eyes as she carefully stood up from the bed when the door opened, Runa coming in swiftly and setting down her empty basket.

“Where have you been?” Clarke asked, accusingly.

Runa’s face was flush with exertion, sweat gleaming on her forehead. “Why are you out of bed?” she asked with a grin.

“I have to pee.” She shook her head. “What other reason do I ever leave the bed?”

Runa nodded, coming up to her. “I’ll help you.”

“Where were you?”

“I told you,” she answered with her head tilted, “getting herbs.”

Clarke’s eyes immediately went to the empty basket. Runa noticed.

“Didn’t find anything useful that we didn’t already have plenty of,” the woman explained.

Clarke glared at her, their eyes locking in some sort of war of wills. “That’s what you were doing for five hours, looking through the forest for things we didn’t need?”

Runa stared right back, her ever present grin on her face. She didn’t answer – didn’t say anything at all. And Clarke knew she wouldn’t.

“C’mon,” Runa finally said, “let’s empty that bladder.”

Runa was mysterious and secretive. But that was the first time Clarke had ever been truly afraid of her.

xxxxxxxxx

It was the middle of summer, and sweat poured down Clarke’s face as she screamed and pushed, trying to expel the baby within her.

She’d been present at two births on the Ark, it was always a good feeling as she watched a life being brought into the world – or space – and even through the labor of screaming, and clutching, and red faces, it was still an amazing experience.

But this, she thought, as she lay back on her forearms, panting for breath, was _far_ from amazing. This was definitely the most painful thing she had ever been through, and there was nothing that could convince her to ever do this again. She wished Bellamy was here, so she could at least feel the satisfaction of smacking him across the face for doing this to her.

Her head tilted back, and she stared at the ceiling with her mouth opened wide as she panted.

Runa gripped her knee. “Clarke don’t stop, you’re almost there.”

Clarke closed her eyes as shook her head slowly. “I can’t,” she said, breathlessly.

Runa grabbed her chin roughly, and Clarke’s eyes snapped open in surprise at the harsh treatment, Runa was _always_ gentle, no matter what Clarke said or did.

Runa stared hard into Clarke’s eyes, her grey ones becoming dark like a storm. “After everything you’ve done to get here – everything you’ve done to survive. You absolutely _can_.” Clarke’s nose flared as she saw the determination on the other woman’s face. “You are not weak, Klark kom Skaikru, now is not the time to act like it.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, nodding firmly, making Runa smile.

“Good girl. Now push.”

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke watched her daughter as she nursed. Even at two months Clarke could already tell Lainey would be the spitting image of Bellamy, with her dusky skin and dark brown eyes. Her hair too, Clarke noted, was all Bellamy. You almost wouldn’t know that she was Clarke’s too, that Clarke had in fact done all the work. But she wasn’t angry, she was overjoyed that when she finally showed Bellamy his daughter, he was sure to think it was like looking in a mirror.

“She’s sweet,” Runa said, as she looked down at mother and daughter. “Hardly fusses at all.”

Clarke smiled, brushing her hand softly across her daughter’s head. “I know. She’s a good baby.”

It was quiet for a moment, Clarke looking down happily at Lainey.

“She should be strong enough for a trek, now,” Runa said.

Clarke’s head snapped to the other woman.

“To go home,” she clarified. “That is, if that’s still what you plan to do.”

Clarke looked at her with confusion. Was this her way of subtly telling her to leave? Runa never seemed eager to kick her out before, just the opposite in fact.

She swallowed, looking away sadly before nodding. “It is.”

She could feel Runa’s eyes as they bored into her. “Will they accept you back?”

Clarke nodded again. “They will,” she said without hesitation. She knew they would.

“Will they forgive you?”

Clarke froze at that. Not completely sure of the answer. She hoped they would. Hoped they wouldn’t pretend to, only to have to see the truth of their hate for her in their eyes. Hate that she knew Octavia already felt.

“Will you be able to forgive yourself, seeing their faces everyday?”

Her heart beat rapidly within her constricting chest. It’s what she’d said to Bellamy. Looking at their people would only remind her of the death she’d caused. But _her_ people would be happy, healthy… _alive_. It would be enough. Wouldn’t it?

Runa stretched out her arm, running a long finger up Lainey’s foot. “She’s a good baby.” She waited a beat before speaking again. “It’s a good thing you didn’t lose her.”

Clarke turned quickly to the other woman once more. What the hell did that mean?

“She means a lot to you-“

“Of course she does, she’s my daughter,” she snapped.

“So I’m very happy I could help the two of you.”

Clarke glared at her, confusion clouding her mind as she could feel a heavy weight of apprehension hang low in her stomach. “What?”

“I would like it very much if you could help me in return.”

Clarke knitted her brows. “Help you with what?”

Runa stood, coming up around Clarke’s other side, kneeling just behind Lainey’s head, touching the soft hair there. She looked up, her clever eyes catching Clarke’s nervous ones. Clarke watched Runa’s long fingers caress her daughters head, and she knew that she had never been so afraid in her life. Runa was _dangerous_ , she realized, with a sick feeling surfacing inside her, and Clarke had no way to fight her.

“ _Lexa_ ,” she finally hissed.

Clarke swallowed hard against the memories that assaulted her.

An understanding, an attraction, a kiss, and finally a betrayal.

“What about Lexa?” Clarke whispered, afraid that if she spoke any louder it would break whatever was holding this insane moment together, shatter it into a million sharp – deadly – pieces.

“She betrayed you. Left you and your people to die. Left you so you would have to make a _horrific_ decision. A decision that you will forever have to shoulder the consequences for.”

Clarke was sure her heart had stopped as she stared hard at Runa’s face. “How do you know that?” she asked, quietly.

Runa only shook her head. “She is _dangerous_.”

Clarke frowned at her. “No, she-“

“She made that decision to leave you because she didn’t _want_ to defeat the Mountain.”

Clarke looked at her like she was crazy. “ _What_?”

“The Mountain Men gave her power.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Runa took hold of Clarke’s arm, holding onto it firmly. “Think about it, Clarke.”

Lexa did what she did to protect her people, that’s what she’d said before walking away. It made sense. They didn’t _know_ how close they were to victory, they didn’t _know_ that the Mountain Men had nothing left to gamble.

But _why_ Lexa did what she did, wasn’t the real question that had been plaguing Clarke’s mind all these months. The question was, why _her_. Why would _Lexa_ have made that decision? The same girl who preached to Clarke about how victory stands on the back of sacrifice, how people die in war, and that being a leader means telling your people to die for you. This was the same girl who sacrificed hundreds of her own people to win a war. A war she gave up on.

_Why_?

They had been so close to stopping an enemy who’d preyed on all of them, an enemy who had probably killed _thousands_ of grounders in the last 97 years. Lexa would never have given up the chance to stop that, to punish them.

Blood must have blood.

An ugly feeling of pure hate crept into her chest as she slowly began to grasp the bigger picture. The picture she’d not been able to see when she was only worried about rescuing her people and stopping a _common_ _enemy_.

“So now you understand,” Runa said with pride.

“She wanted power,” Clarke said between gritted teeth.

Runa’s eyes lit up. “Yes.”

“She wanted to keep her power over the clans with a common enemy.”

“Yes.”

“She left me to die. Left my people to be tortured – my _mother_ – so that she could keep control of the clans.”

Runa said nothing, but Clarke didn’t need her to anymore. She understood it all. Understood Lexa’s true motivation. And she swore right then and there that she would make her pay for it, no matter what it took. Lexa would pay.

“Clarke, she has to be stopped before things become too dangerous.”

She met Runa’s eyes once again. “What do you mean?”

Runa raised a knowing brow. “What do you think will happen now that you’ve ruined her plans?”

Clarke raised her head, inhaling deeply. “The clans will revolt.”

Runa nodded. “And not just because they no longer share a common enemy, but because of what she did to you.”

She was confused again as she turned to look back at Runa. Why would any grounder care about _her_?

“She made an alliance with you _and_ with your people, and then she betrayed you.” Runa shook her head with a smile. “Believe me, that will not go over well with any of her people.” She paused. “Especially now that they all worship _you_.”

“What are you talking about? No one even knows who I am.”

Runa gave her a smile full of pity. “Poor girl. _Everyone_ knows who you are.” Runa looked back down at a now sleeping Lainey. “You, are Wanheda.”

Clarke knit her brows, shaking her head, unable to understand the foreign words.

“Commander of death.”

It angered her at first, she was not a commander of anything anymore. She didn’t want anyone worshipping her. But then she realized… it was true.

She stared into the snapping fire as it hissed and crackled like the rage inside of her. “I am become death,” she whispered. She turned slowly back to Runa, her face full of fury. “What do I have to do?”


	8. Behind the Tears, Inside the Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you happen to be curious about where I got the inspiration for Lainey, that'd be the adorable Eden Estrella, but if you'd like to keep your own mental image of our favorite Bellarke daughter, then feel free to disregard this whole sentence.
> 
> So, this chapter is long, but I hope it's not too boring. More Bellarke is on the way soon, I promise, as well as Camp Jaha, which will have the answers to a lot of questions, or some of them anyway.
> 
> And I want to thank all of you again, because you've no idea how much I appreciate you taking the time to even read this, much less comment, kudos, subscribe, or bookmark. Like, seriously it just blows my mind!
> 
> This chapter title is from People Help the People, by Birdy
> 
> Enjoy!

Bellamy’s voice was low and rough, and like a strong wave it crashed into her, overriding all her senses. It had been so long since she’d heard it, heard him – been in his conscious presence. It was all she could think about as she and Lainey made their way back to their village.

Him, and everything they’d been through. She realized that they’d spent more time apart than together. It was amazing how, after only a few months around each other, he’d taken over her mind for years to come, never straying too far from it. He’d left his mark on her, and as painful as it was, a masochistic side of her hoped that it never faded, no matter what the future brought them.

He’d been so angry when they’d first landed – so full of resentment and bitterness towards her and Wells. He’d been an ass. But that was all, nothing to worry about really. Then she’d seen it, after they came back from their unsuccessful trip to Mount Weather, how he moved the crowd, how he was able to reach the teens, _manipulate_ them. And she’d known that, that kind of power could be dangerous in the wrong hands, _he_ could be dangerous.

So she used it to control him, his need to control of the _100_ , it was the only card she’d had left to play. They wouldn’t follow her like they followed him, wouldn’t listen to her, the princess of the Ark, so she’d have to do it through him.

But then of things changed. He’d opened up, telling her about the guilt that weighed heavily in his chest over the culling and everything else that’d happened since they’d landed. And she finally realized… she _trusted_ him. She didn’t need to control him or keep an eye on him, because she trusted that he would do what was best – he would do what was right.

And he hadn’t let her down, risking his life numerous times, working tirelessly to help those around him – his people – even the ones he claimed to hate.

He’d become a good man, and she’d punished him for it – taking away his daughter before he ever had a chance to know she existed.

Her chest squeezed with remorse while she watched Lainey’s back, the girl making her way effortlessly between the thick trees and shrubs. Clarke and Runa had left father and daughter alone to talk and get to know one another, and as she’d stood by the gurgling stream, staring at the small hut with guilt eating away at her heavy heart.

_They’d been left alone for nearly half an hour, Clarke’s gaze traveling between the clear stream and the hut that they occupied. She wanted to be part of the reunion, be there while Lainey and Bellamy spoke, learning about each other._

_Until now, they had only been connected through her, she was what tied them together, but now that they knew about each other, she no longer had the right to be their missing link. They deserved to have a relationship beyond her. But as much as she knew it was true, it petrified her. She couldn’t help the small part of her that whispered how in their anger towards her, they would leave her behind._

_They didn’t need her now that they had each other._

_“You shouldn’t be worried.”_

_Clarke could feel Runa’s stoic presence behind her – watching her – but she refused to acknowledge the blonde, only continuing to watch the hut._

_“They both love you very much.”_

_Her throat tightened, wanting desperately to believe it. But how could_ anyone _love her after the things she’d done. She thought of Bellamy’s eyes as they’d roamed the length of her after ten years apart. They’d been full of relief, anger, resentment,_ lust _, but definitely not love._

_“You’ll be leaving soon, I suppose. Back to your Skaikru camp.”_

_Clarke frowned, keeping her back to the woman. “Are you saying you’re going to try to stop me, again?”_

_She could practically_ feel _the smirk on Runa’s face, which told her she spent way too much time around this puzzle of a woman._

_“I’ve_ never _stopped you from doing anything, Klark kom Skaikru. All the choices you’ve made, you’ve made on your own.”_

_Of course that’s what she’d say, Clarke thought, shady and manipulative until the end. She gave a smirk of her own, shaking her head at her own stupidity at having let herself be used by this woman. “You’re right. I’m responsible for the choices I’ve made, but at least I own up to them. I don’t need to use others to do my dirty work for me.” At that she walked away, no longer wanting to listen to the crafty, slippery words that came from the deceitful blonde._

_She pressed her fingertips to the door, leaning in close as she listened to the noise coming from inside. She could hear Bellamy’s gruff voice, lulling her into a sense of relaxation – if only for a moment._

_She didn’t want to interrupt them, but it was getting late and she and Lainey had to be back if they wanted to keep Bellamy’s existence a secret._

_The door was silent as she opened it, a quiet coming over the room as she entered – father and daughter staring at her. She cleared her throat. “We need to go,” she said, quietly._

_Lainey frowned, and Clarke could feel the painful twisting of her heart intensely, in the face of her daughter’s anger._

_“We just got here,” Lainey retorted._

_Clarke nodded. “We’ll come back,” she said with a small smile, “I promise.”_

_Her daughter shook her head slowly, dark eyes never leaving Clarke’s face. “I don’t trust you anymore.”_

_She inhaled sharply at that – her eyes trying desperately to blink away the sudden bout of stinging tears. She deserved it, she thought, as she looked down at her feet, but to be honest, she wasn’t ready for the sharp intensity of her daughter’s fury. She knew it would come after the secret was out, but she was suddenly worried that it would be more than she could bear._

_“You should go.”_

_Clarke raised her head quickly at Bellamy’s voice. He was looking hard at their daughter, his hand twitching to take hold of her arm, catching himself at the last minute. Lainey sat in a chair next to his bed, her small body stiff as she avoided Bellamy’s gaze._

_“Lainey,” Bellamy said, sadly, unable to finish._

_Lainey sat in silence while chewing on her bottom lip before giving a resigning sigh. She gave Bellamy a look that was full of so many feelings, Clarke had to turn away._

_“We’ll see each other again, I promise,” Bellamy said, giving his daughter a firm nod. Lainey nodded back, standing from her chair and looking down at him awkwardly. Clarke could tell she wanted to hug him, but was too afraid. Instead, she turned away, walking past Clarke, meeting her mother’s eyes briefly before heading out the door._

_An awkward silence hung heavy in the air – filling the space between them. Clarke tried swallowing away the knot in her throat. “We’ll come back as soon as we-“_

_“Clarke.”_

_She looked up at him, their eyes meeting through the thick fog of emotions clouding the room. What she’d done suddenly hit her hard, slamming into her with full force, making the breath leave her lungs, and she wished she could take it all back – her decision to leave. It hadn’t been the first time she’d wished it, but it’d been the first time she truly mourned for everything she’d given up – everything she’d taken away._

_“I can’t leave her here.” His gaze was firm, but his voice was tremulous, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was going to do if she said no. “I can’t leave without her.”_

_His face was full of fear, fear of having to choose between his daughter and his home. She didn’t think he would fight her if she stood her ground, deciding to keep Lainey here, but she wasn’t going to do that to him –_ couldn’t _do that to him. She would be the one making the impossible choice._

_But that’s exactly what I deserve, she thought._

_“I know,” she said, quietly. “I won’t make you.”_

_Surprise crossed his face, followed quickly by relief. She gave him a soft, parting smile before slowly closing the door. She couldn’t be in that room anymore – couldn’t be near him for one more minute._

Too caught up in her memories, Clarke didn’t notice Lainey ahead of her, crouching low and quiet in the thick brush.

“Nomon,” she whispered, turning back to Clarke with a worried expression. Clarke quickly dropped down beside her, looking for what had put her daughter on alert. She noticed it quickly, and her brow furrowed in confusion.

The gate to their village was closed.

Their village of Remmick was the _only_ Floudon Kru village this side of the strait, therefore it was seen as a sort of gateway into Floudon Kru territory. Anyone who wished to visit Luna or the Floudon Kru islands, must first pass through Remmick – through Theo. And for this reason, except at night, the gate was almost always open.

Fear bloomed within Clarke’s chest as she eyed the thick wooden structure. Theo was not a coward, he wasintelligent, levelheaded, and loyal to Luna to a fault. He would never go against Luna’s orders unless he truly thought it was necessary… unless he was truly worried.

Clarke’s eyes darted around, searching the area, trying to find any kind of danger nearby that would give cause for such a drastic decision. Though still sparse, thanks to winter, the coming of spring had brought foliage back to the woods, green and budding with new life, there were still places to hide. Places to ambush someone wanting to return home inside the closed village.

She stayed still for another moment, just waiting, just in-case. Everything was quiet except for the groaning trees and the chattering wildlife that surrounded them.

She turned to Lainey, who gave her a wary look. “Stay here,” Clarke whispered, before slowly beginning to stand. Lainey grabbed her arm quickly, holding firmly as she pulled Clarke back down. “ _Lainey_ -“

“You can’t go out there,” Her daughter hissed, furiously. “You don’t _know_ who’s out there.”

Clarke tilted her head. “Lainey, it’s the only way back into the village. I have to find out what’s going on-“

“No-“

“Lainey,” Clarke started firmly, “I don’t have-“

“I know another way,” the girl explained, quickly. “I know another way into the village.”

Clarke stared at her for a moment, blinking as she tried to process her daughter’s response. She sighed as she rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke squeezed beneath the thick wall, pushing herself through the other side of the small ditch. Lainey had scurried under quite easily, coming out the other end in a matter of seconds, Clarke was having… a harder time. Lainey held firmly onto her arm, trying to help her along.

Clarke was surprised no one had noticed them yet with all the noise they were making.

Finally she was free, backing up away from the wall before finally dropping on the ground, breathing heavily. Lainey sat beside her, looking up at the imposing wall.

Clarke found the girl’s knee, patting it. “Should I ask how you know about that?”

Lainey smiled down at her, shaking her head. “Probably best not to.”

Breathlessly, Clarke nodded. “You’re right.” She got up slowly, hissing at the sting on her side. The wall was broken and splintered, sharp wooden edges and points hanging above the small ditch like fangs.

She lifted her shirt to inspect the damage, it didn’t appear any worse than the graze she’d gotten falling along the rocks the other night while looking for Bellamy.

“I have to find out what’s happening,” she said as she looked between the buildings and into the village. It was swarming with people, as it usually was, but they didn’t appear to be doing anything other than standing around and talking to each other. For a moment she thought to just ask one of them, but why do that when she can go straight to the source.

Clarke turned toward Lainey, setting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Find Cofrea, stay with her so I can find you after.”

Lainey nodded, her face full of apprehension.

Clarke placed her hand on the girl’s cheek. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”

Lainey stayed quiet, her dark eyes looking sadly into Clarke’s own. It felt like a forgiveness of sorts, or maybe just the start of it. But they would have to talk about it later.

They walked swiftly into the village, parting as they came upon the murmuring crowd. Clarke headed straight for the meeting house, passing through groups of villagers, their worried gossip and scared conversations drifting to her in bits and pieces.

_“-promising death on-“_

_“-has bloody fangs that-“_

_“-a black stallion with red eyes-“_

She slammed the door open, the quiet conversation stopping as everyone inside the meeting house looked to her. _“What’s going on?”_ she asked, unconcerned by the annoyed looks being sent her way.

Theo walked up to her quickly, crowding her. _“Where have you been?”_

She met his blue eyes, refusing to back down. _“Out. What’s happening?”_

Theo watched her for a moment longer before huffing and turning around, walking back to the table at the center of the room.

_“_ She _is coming,”_ he stated, carelessly.

Clarke immediately knew whom he was talking about. The woman everyone in Remmick seemed to suddenly fear. The she-wolf.

Clarke rolled her eyes with the ridiculousness of it all. She’d been living the life of a grounder for ten years now, and as much as she learned from them about using the natural world around them, and as much as she respected them when it came to surviving their hard way of life, they could still be so… ignorant and superstitious. Clinging to unenlightened beliefs that kept them from moving forward. It nearly drove her to insanity.

This woman, unless she had a vast army that could knock down their walls and destroy their defenses, was nothing to be afraid of. She was not a demon, she was not a monster. Those things didn’t exist, and their stories only served this woman’s purpose in beating her enemies with fear before ever even fighting them.

It worked though. Looking around the room, Clarke could see fear lining the faces of the hard, battle-tested warriors around her. _That_ scared her more than this demon woman.

_“How do you know?”_ Clarke asked.

The woman to her right spoke up, her blonde hair shorn except for a single braid down the side of her head. _“Our scouts returned, riding home fast with the news.”_ Clarke knitted her brows. _“She should be here within the hour.”_

Clarke shook her head. _“How do you even know it’s her they saw? It could’ve been anyone.”_

The man standing next to Theo scoffed. _“Everyone knows what the she-wolf looks like, sh-“_

_“I don’t,”_ Clarke said, raising her brows. _“And I doubt anyone else really does. They only_ think _they do because of a few scary stories.”_

Clarke could see anger flash in the man’s eyes and she quickly made her way between him and Theo. Setting her hand on Theo’s back, she stared hard at his profile. _“This woman is nothing to be afraid of,”_ she said, quietly.

The other man smashed his fist hard upon the table, making her jump and turn. _“What do you know?! You know_ nothing _!”_

Theo looked over her, glaring at the angry man. Clarke watched as the man’s ire cooled quickly at Theo’s look of warning.

_“She knows nothing,”_ the man implored. _“She should not even be here. She is not a warrior, she is not a leader, and she has not taken any vows of the Water Tribe.”_ The man came around Clarke, leaning in close to Theo. _“She is not one of us,”_ he said, softly.

Theo watched him, his face blank and his thoughts a mystery. Finally he spoke, _“No, she is not one of us, but she is much smarter than you will ever be. And her opinion is of great importance to me.”_ He continued staring at the man and Clarke was suddenly afraid for him, the last thing they all needed was to watch as Theo cut down one of his own. _“Leave.”_

The man’s eyes went wide, his nose flaring in indignation. _“But-“_

_“Now.”_

Another quiet fell over the room as the door shut, everyone looking to Theo, then he slowly turned to _her_. _“You say this woman is nothing to be afraid of.”_ He stood tall and proud looking down at her, _“Perhaps your right, perhaps she only wishes to talk, but we shall be prepared anyways.”_

Clarke nodded, relief coming over her as she watched his body fill with the courage and mettle that always left her and the rest of the village with confidence. He would protect them, lead them, because it was what he did, what he was made for.

Theo addressed his generals, making plans of how to prepare for the worst, then once outside, explained the situation to the rest of the village. And they listened to him, watched him as if he were a life boat on a sinking ship.

He was calm, poised, sure, and as she watched him that feeling she was all too familiar with now, appeared, floating heavy in her stomach. It made her fingers itch to touch him, but it was a trick, because she knew what it would do to her to run her fingers down his arm or along the back of his hand, knew the self-hatred that would burn black within her, choking her.

Clarke looked around through the throng of people as they ran this way and that, preparing the umiaks and kayaks, handing out weapons, gathering supplies. She needed to find Lainey.

She walked quickly through the crowd, running into people, not even caring enough to apologize as her eyes darted around, desperately searching for the only person in this world that she _had_ to keep safe, the only person she could never truly live without.

_“Clarke.”_

Her head twisted fast when she heard Cofrea’s voice call out, the tight feeling in her chest easing just a bit. _“Is Lainey with you?”_

The younger woman shook her head before quickly taking hold of Clarke’s arm. _“I’m sure she’s fine.”_

Clarke closed her eyes, pressing her lips together tightly as she tried to calm the beating of her heart and the sick feeling rising in her stomach. _“I’m going to look for her. Will you help me?”_

Cofrea nodded her head quickly. _“Of course.”_

But before they could take a step, the sound of the warning horns reverberated throughout the village. Everyone froze.

Clarke felt a giggle rising in her chest at the picture of these people, who only seconds ago were running around like mad but were now frozen in place – like the pause button when she use to watch vids on the Ark.

But this was real, and these people were frozen with _fear_ , a fear that was completely infectious, like a snake slithering its way through her body, constricting around her lungs making it hard for her to breathe as her heart beat harder in her chest.

She needed to find Lainey.

Movement caught her eye near the front of the village. It was Theo, and he was making his way up the steps that led to the top of the wall, followed closely by his generals, whom he conferred with before calling down to whomever was below.

Even in the utter silence she couldn’t make out what he said from the distance that she was at, but she knew the moment he told the guards to open the gates, as the whole village seemed to gasp.

Clarke turned her eyes towards the longhouse just in time to see Lainey emerge slowly. Clarke released such a sigh of relief, she could feel it throughout her whole body. She strode quickly to her daughter, making her way round this person and that person, all of whom were staring forward at their chief with bated breath. The only thing Clarke could see was Lainey, nothing else matter so long as they had each other.

Without hesitation, Clarke wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly to her chest. Lainey didn’t reciprocate, but it was okay, Clarke realized, the girl’s full forgiveness and trust would take time to earn back, but that was something she was more than happy to do. Clarke released her as Nikolas came out of the door, looking up at Clarke with frightened eyes. They’d obviously heard the news.

“Someone has to help Tyra if we’re going to leave,” Lainey stated, firmly.

Clarke nodded her head as she squeezed Lainey’s shoulder in agreement. “We will.”

Nikolas jumped, grabbing onto Clarke’s shirt as the gates groaned loudly, opening the village to whatever lay beyond it.

Clarke turned back to Lainey. “Go to my hut and ready our packs, then stay there and wait for me. I’ll find you if we need to leave.” Lainey gave her a quick nod before running through the sea of people, making her way to the small healers hut. Clarke felt Nikolas’ small hand as it slipped inside her own and she squeezed it, trying to offer the boy a bit of comfort.

She tried to see through the crowd, only make out the top of Theo’s head as he stood in front of the opened gate. She snaked her way slowly through the throng, weaving around the scared villagers with Nikolas right behind her, his sweaty palm holding on tightly to hers.

_“Then I’m sorry to tell you that you have wasted a trip.”_

Clarke still couldn’t see anything but she knew that was definitely Theo’s deep voice. She finally broke through the crowd, looking on as Theo’s generals flanked him, while he stood tall in front of a red-headed woman.

The she-wolf, Clarke realized. She was of average height but she looked strong, the shirt she wore having no sleeves, revealing the tight, lean muscles of her arms.

_“There is no Skaikru here.”_

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. Why was she looking for Skaikru, Clarke wondered with panic?

_“I don’t believe you.”_ The woman’s voice was toneless – dead – much like her green eyes that stood out behind her dark war paint.

Theo walked up to her slowly, looking down at the woman, and her guards came closer. They had no weapons, Clarke noticed. They had respected grounder law to relinquish weapons when coming into the village.

She hoped that meant they weren’t looking for a fight.

_“You can believe whatever you wish, but it is the truth.”_

The she-wolf raised a red brow, tilting her head. _“Then you won’t mind if we look.”_ She started to walk past Theo, only to be stopped by his generals.

Theo smirk as he turned to her, walking lazily up to her side. _“You will do no such thing.”_

She turned her furious eyes upon him, as if she were going to lash out. Clarke feared for him, hoping his generals were faster than this slight woman. Theo payed no mind to the enraged woman before him, crossing his arms languidly as he continued to smirk.

_“We are here by order of_ Lexa _,”_ she said with vehemence, _“and you will let us pass.”_

Theo didn’t move, standing his ground against this storm of a woman. _“No… I won’t”_

_“You defy your heda?”_

Floudon Kru were not currently on “friendly terms” with Trikru, but Lexa was still technically their commander, and unless Theo wished to cause a war, he _had_ to obey her.

He inhaled deeply, releasing it slowly as he stared down at this woman everyone seemed to fear. _“No,”_ he answered, _“I defy_ you _.”_ The she-wolf widened her eyes. _“You are not my heda, and if she wishes to search my village she may do so herself, instead of sending her dog to do it for her.”_ As proud as Clarke was, she was becoming more worried as she watched this irrational woman in front of them.

Of course she didn’t believe the ridiculous stories that were told of a demon woman but people could still be blood-thirsty, people could still be hateful and evil. This woman looked about as hateful as one could get with her eyes that would make a lesser man shrivel and an emptiness that seemed to live inside her. Empty people were dangerous, empty people had nothing to live for, nothing they cared for.

They were capable of anything.

_“Until then,”_ Theo continued, _“I will follow orders given to me by Luna.”_

The woman clenched her jaw, looking up and down Theo’s tall frame with disgust. _“Then I demand to speak to Luna, since you are obviously such an ineffectual leader,”_ she hissed.

Theo chuckled, raising a hand to the opposite end of the village to the water beyond. _“Be my guest.”_ He walked around, stopping just behind her as her green eyes continued to look out at the glittering sea. _“I’ve been told that you are a terrifying woman, all men and beasts cower before you in fear,”_ He leaned in close, just behind her ear, and Clarke watched with worry as her guards tensed. _“But The Great One cowers before no one. Perhaps she will find you worthy enough to let you pass… perhaps not. The only way to know for sure is if Floudon Kru take you across. And you already know, we will do no such thing.”_

The woman’s face fell in defeat, but it was still full of fury as she turned to face Theo. _“Where is_ she _?”_

Theo knitted his brows as he shook his head in confusion. _“Who?”_

_“Wanheda. She is apart of your village now, is she not?”_

Clarke’s breath faltered and she took a step back. Nikolas squeezed her hand and she looked down only to see Lainey as she stood behind the boy, her face full of fear.

_“If_ you _do not know where the Skai person is, perhaps she does. She was once one herself after all.”_

Theo glared down at the she-wolf, any humor in his face now gone. _“She doesn’t know where your Skai person is,”_ he gritted out.

_“I want to speak to her,”_ she whispered, loudly.

Clarke broke out of Nikolas’ grip.

Theo shook his head slowly. _“You won’t speak to-“_

_“I don’t know anything about Skaikru, anymore,”_ Clarke interrupted, stepping forward. Theo turned with surprise, frowning at her. _“I haven’t spoken to any of them in years.”_

The she-wolf made her way around Theo, stopping in front of Clarke. Her red hair was long, kept in a loose braid down her back. This close, Clarke could see the strands of gold as they glittered in the sun.

_“You’ve spoken to no one?”_

Clarke swallowed. Unable to speak, she shook her head.

_“Lexa told me you were here, did you know that?”_

Finally, she seemed to find her voice. She was determined to stand up to this woman who seemed to be nothing more than a resentful individual who enjoyed the power she felt from hurting others. _“No,”_ Clarke said, firmly, smiling internally at having kept her voice from shaking. _“I didn’t.”_ She raised her brows. _“How is Lexa?”_

_“She also told me you_ know _the man I’m looking for,”_ the she-wolf stated, ignoring Clarke’s try at pleasantries.

Clarke’s heart beat rapidly within her chest as sweat began to slide down her neck.

_“Belomi,”_ the woman hissed. _“Do you remember him?”_

She was silent at first. _“Yes,”_ she whispered, before she shook her head. _“But I haven’t seen him. I haven’t seen_ anyone _in years.”_

The woman’s gaze pierced into her own, looking for deceit, but Clarke stared back, determined to win this game for once – she had to, for Bellamy’s sake.

Then the she-wolf leaned in close, so close Clarke could feel her cold lips as they moved against her ear. She did everything she could to steel herself against the urge to step back, nearly giving in. _“If I find out you’re lying… I will make every single man, woman, and child in this village, kneel at your feet,”_

Clarke felt a shiver of horror race down her spine as her stomach twisted in knots.

_“And then I will slaughter them, one by one – their warm blood pooling at your feet.”_ She pulled back looking, into Clarke’s eyes once more. _“But you would like that, wouldn’t you. You are wanheda, after all.”_

Clarke’s nose flared as she gritted her teeth. _“I don’t know anything about Skaikru, anymore,”_ she repeated. _“So I think it’s about time for you and your men to leave, unless Lexa’s okay with you starting a war with one of the_ only _clans left that is loyal to her.”_

The she-wolf wasn’t smug, nor amused, no smirking or grinning – god, she was been spending _way_ too much time around Runa. Instead, she backed off, giving Theo one last look before mounting her horse and galloping away.

What the hell did Bellamy do to get on _her_ bad side, Clarke wondered? But then again, with a woman as pissed off at the world as she seemed to be, chances are it didn’t take a whole lot to _get_ on her bad side.

The village came to life again, people talking and whispering about their encounter with the she-wolf.

The cacophony of voices soothed her, relaxing her tense body. Nikolas ran up to her, wrapping his hands tightly around her. She smiled as she lay her hand atop his blonde head. _“Go check on your nomon. I’m sure she’s worried.”_

With one last look, he let her go, turning on his heal and stumbling around the people between him and the longhouse.

Lainey came up to her, her brown eyes wide. “We have to go back-“

“Go with him,” Clarke interrupted, “help check on Tyra, keep her calm – Nikolas won’t.”

Lainey frowned, shaking her head. “But-“

“Not now,” Clarke hissed.

Lainey pursed her lips, face full of anger as she turned and strode away. Clarke watched her, weariness settling into her bones. How old was she supposed to be again? Because she suddenly felt like she’d spent centuries on this planet. One awful thing happening after another. When would it ever end?

Theo walked up to her and she smiled before seeing the unhappy look on his face. He leaned down. “Meet me in the meeting house,” he hissed in her face, before he too turned and walked away from her.

Apparently it _never_ ended.

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke closed the door gently, all too aware of the fuming man leaning stoically against the table. She knew he wouldn’t like her interfering with the she-wolf, but she’d had no choice, she had to do everything she could to keep that crazy woman off of Bellamy’s trail.

_“You lied.”_

That… wasn’t what she’d been expecting. The surprise must’ve showed on her face.

_“About the Skai person.”_ Clarke swallowed hard, looking away. _“You know exactly what the she-wolf was talking about… don’t you?”_

She pressed her lips together tightly as she slowly shook her head. _“I don’t-“_

Theo stood abruptly from the table, walking up to her quickly, making her step back in surprise. How could she be so strong against some crazy woman, but bend so easily when it came to _him_?

_“And now you’re lying to_ me. _”_ It wasn’t a question, and Clarke didn’t respond – couldn’t – while his piercing blue eyes looked at her with so much hurt. _“How long have you been keeping this from me?”_

She shook her head once again, this time placatingly. _“Not that long,”_ she rasped, her throat tight with emotion as her eyes filled with tears.

He said nothing at first, only watching her as she fell apart slowly in front of him. He was good at that. But she could see now that he was falling apart too, piece by piece, he was just so good at hiding it. All these years and she never realized that she’d hurt him just as much as he’d hurt her. And they’d both done everything they could to keep from hurting the people around them in their absolute hurricane of a destructive relationship.

_“You didn’t trust me.”_

Tears finally fell from her eyes in heavy drops. She was so damn tired of crying.

_“Have you ever trusted me?”_

She tried swallowing again as she dropped her eyes to his broad chest. She heard him as he released a heavy sigh before stepping away from her.

_“You have him hidden somewhere, I assume.”_

She looked up quickly at the sudden change in subject. She nodded her head silently.

_“She will find him, eventually. Take him home before it’s too late.”_

She blinked before shaking her head. _“What are you saying?”_

_“I’m saying I want you to leave. I was right when you first came here, I was right to turn you away. But Tyra beg me to let you stay. I should’ve listened to my instincts.”_

Tears fell harder down her cheeks. She’d planning to leave anyway, this just wasn’t how she’d imagined it happening.

_“I don’t trust you anymore either. Who knows_ how _many things you’re keeping from me.”_

There was more, so much more. But she would never tell him, too afraid of what he’d do if he ever learned the truth. Banishment would be far too kind a punishment if he ever found out all that she had done.

_“I’m sorry,”_ she whispered.


	9. Take Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took so long. Lack of inspiration and distracting plot bunnies got in the way. But this chapter is the longest by far so hopefully that makes up for it. Thanks to all of you for being patient, you're all amazing sweeties and I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> Also, this chapter has a few answers for you ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

Clarke gripped the handle hard as she flung open the door, allowing only a second for Bellamy and Runa to take her in with their wide eyes before she spoke.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“That was quick,” Runa quipped, before going to rummage through a nearby chest.

Bellamy pushing up straighter in the bed, leaning heavily against the wall with a hand held to his side. “What’s going on?”

Clarke raised an irritated brow. “You didn’t tell me you had a crazy woman after you.”

He sat up so quick both him and the bed groaned at the movement. “The She-Wolf,” he ground out through the piercing stabs of pain.

“So you do know her,” Clarke accused, tilting her head. She was pissed that he’d neglected to tell her about this mad-woman, but more than that, the terror that had begun to infect her after her own meeting with the She-Wolf, began spreading faster at Bellamy’s obvious fear.

Bellamy was not a grounder. He was not superstitious or credulous. He was ruled by his emotions, yes, but he was logical and astute overall. He would never fall for a naïve, scary story meant to frighten him into submission.

But there he sat, in the sad excuse for a bed where she had given birth to their daughter, panic coming off of him in waves so thick it made her heart race and her stomach twist.

He leaned back gingerly, blinking as he stared at the wall across from him, his eyes flitting back and forth across the stone. He looked as if he were desperately trying to come up with a plan, but there was nothing else to do but run. And now that Clarke had been banished from Remmick, there was nowhere else to go but Camp Jaha.

“Is she here?” he asked in a low, trembling voice that left her both terrified and sad. _What had happened to him?_

“Not yet. But she will be,” she replied, gravely.

Bellamy nodded. “Lainey?”

Clarke gestured to the door. “Keeping an eye on things outside.”

His brows shot up. “You left her alone-“

“She’s fine,” Clarke stated, firmly. “We’re leaving now anyways.”

She went to him then, helping him stand from the bed. He wore nothing but a pair of ill-fitting trousers, though thankfully not the disgusting ones she’d originally found him in.

After he was standing and she was certain he could hold his own weight, she turned to her satchel, rifling through the large animal skin to pull out an outfit she’d managed to pilfer before leaving Remmick.

“Here.” She held out a shirt and pants in one hand and boots in the other. “Put these on.”

The surprise on Bellamy’s face lasted only a moment before he gratefully took the clothes.

She turned away, giving him privacy as walked up beside Runa.

The other woman was filling another pack with small bags and vials, paying no mind to Clarke watching over her shoulder.

Clarke reached around her, taking one of the bags and inspecting the contents. Inside was the remnants of a dry, teal colored plant with an aromatic, earthy scent escaping from its small burlap bag. “What are you doing?” she questioned.

Runa continued packing, not looking up from her task as she answered. “You’ll want to be prepared, won’t you? Who knows what you’ll need out there.”

Clarke frowned, childish indignation sparking quickly inside her. “We can find these things on our own if we need to. We don’t-”

Runa looked up sharply, her piercing eyes making Clarke feel thoroughly chastised. “ _He_ is barely standing,” she chided quietly, eyes motioning to Bellamy. “And this trip would be difficult even if he _was_ completely healthy.”

Clarke stood tall and shook her head, trying not to let her insecurity around this woman show. “No, we need to leave. There’s no time to wait for him to heal. This woman is coming, and she’s going to find this place sooner or later.”

Runa raised her hand placatingly, quieting her before she could begin ranting. “I know. I agree that, for better or worse, now is the time for you to leave. Vienna is more like a rabid beast than a person now, hence the nick-name. And with Lexa’s backing she’s even more dangerous.”

Clarke’s brows flew together as she glared hard at the other woman. “Wait, you know her?”

Runa opened her mouth to speak but then slowly closed it, instead settling for a look that seemed to ask how, after everything, Clarke ever doubted that she _wouldn’t_ have such knowledge.

“How?” Clarke hissed, through clenched teeth.

A familiar smirk planted itself upon Runa’s lips as she blinked slowly. “I know _of_ her.”

Clarke’s nose flared, her body tensing. Why she even bothered being upset anymore, over the secrets and lies this woman kept, she wasn’t sure. But what she did know, was as cooperative and sympathetic to their plight as she appeared to be, Runa was most definitely looking out for herself. This was only a game to her, and Clarke and Bellamy, merely pawns.

“Who?”

Clarke blinked at the sound of Bellamy’s voice, turning away from Runa slowly. “No one. You ready?”

The apprehension surrounding him intensified in his dark eyes, flickering behind his pupils like a flame gaining strength in the oxygen that was his fear. He swallowed hard before finally nodding. “We’ll need weapons.” He looked between both women. “I’m guessing neither of you have any guns.”

Clarke’s body deflated just a bit, eyes traveling down slowly. She’d left Remmick in a hurry and hadn’t thought to bring weapons. The dull knife strapped her belt, used mostly to collect plants, was the only thing she had. She remembered a time when sleeping next to a gun was the norm.

How things change.

“Swords work just as well at killing things,” Runa replied, with a cool smile.

Bellamy gave her a wry grin. “I’m not exactly the best swordsman.”

Runa raised her sharp brows. “Knives then. They’re fairly simple to use,” she said, dryly. “I’m sure you’ll catch on quick.”

She slipped from between the former lovers, beginning her search for the weapons she kept hidden within her hut.

Clarke and Bellamy stood in awkward silence, staunchly avoiding eye contact.

“You ready to go home?” he asked, finally breaking the hush that had fallen between them.

A multitude of thoughts and feelings whirled inside her and she felt lightheaded. So many things had happened within the last few days, things she never believed would come to pass, things she never thought she would have to face. But the most amazing, most improbable, would be saved for last of course.

Was she ready to go home?

Yes. No. Maybe. Not at all.

Pressing her lips together tightly, she tried to decide which answer was true, and which answer she should give. They were never the same anymore. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure herself. She didn’t know anything anymore. She was lost in a darkness of her own making, without any way out.

She looked up at him, their eyes finally meeting. “Yes.”

xxxxxxxxx

The pain was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it kept him alert and awake against the pull of exhaustion that seemed to drag him down not even thirty minutes after they’d begun their trek – he was sorely out of shape. But on the other hand… it hurt… a lot.

It was nearly unbearable. Though the wrap Runa had insisted he wear helped some, there was still the burn of his muscles and the ache in his bones, the sting of his cuts and the bruises that mapped out the violence that had been done to his body. He sighed. He was just happy to no longer be pissing blood.

He took shallow breathes and kept an arm firmly planted around his wrapped chest.

Clarke had argued and fought against it, spitting out a list of future complications and consequences, her voice cracking and face turning red with the force of her rant. But in the end, Runa was right and he knew it. The journey to Camp Jaha would be hard enough and they needed to get there as fast as they could. If that meant he risked getting pneumonia then so be it. He’d deal with that problem if they came to it, but at least they’d be safe.

He looked up through hooded, tired eyes, at the woman leading the way, her blonde hair braided down her back. It seemed lighter than he remembered, almost glowing as strands glinted in the bright sun. It was definitely longer, softer. She was cleaner and healthier than he’d ever seen her and he smiled internally at the thought of how _he_ must look to _her_ after all these years.

He wanted to speak to her, question her, let the resonance of her voice wrap around him as he finally allowed his mind to fill with the memories of her rare smiles that he’d tried so hard to banish for the last decade.

But there was still too much that separated them, a gaping wound made up of more than just distance and time that he wasn’t entirely sure they’d ever be able to heal.

A malicious part of him didn’t want to. She deserved his anger and his outrage. She deserved to feel the heavy burden of guilt for what she’d taken from him. But he knew that if confronted, she would agree with the treatment completely, taking any kind of vitriol he threw at her with quiet remorse. Because that was what she always did, always taking the blame for everything. Placing the burden of the world firmly on her shoulders and hers alone. As if she were the only one capable of making such a decision, the only one able to carry such a decision.

Always so selfish in her selflessness.

The crunch of their boots atop twigs and foliage, along with the sound of their labored breathing, seemed thunderous as they hiked along, reverberating in his head along with the tangle of confusing thoughts about his past and his present, and just what it would mean when they finally collided.

It’d been so long since she’d been home and things were… different. People were different. It was going to be hard to adjust, to accept, to forgive – on everyone’s part.

Jesus, it’d been long since _he’d_ been home, he thought wearily. What did everyone think happened to him, he wondered? Dead, probably, answering himself quickly. Grounders weren’t exactly known for taking prisoners.

While in captivity, a part of him hoped for rescue, hoped to see Octavia standing over him with her painted face and wicked sword. But another part, a much larger part, hoped she would just accept that he was dead. Be happy with Lincoln and move on with her life without him.

But this was Octavia, and he knew she would be searching for him. But now she would never find him, never have to fight for him, never have to die for him, because now she would never have to come face to face with the She-Wolf.

As skilled as Octavia was with her sword, he knew how that fight would end.

That black shadow that seemed to settle within him ever since his capture, spread dark and slow like molasses throughout his chest, squeezing his heart and taking his breath away with the thought of what could’ve happened.

He stumbled, grunting as he caught himself on a boulder, face squeezing tight against the pain, taking a moment to let it pass through him.

This wasn’t the time or the place to be distracted. Not when there were two other people counting on him. Not when his _daughter_ was counting on him. All he had to do was move, and he could barely do that. He was already a liability, already holding them back.

Both Clarke and Lainey turned at the sound of his pain, scrambling over quickly to his side.

He raised a limp arm. “I’m fine,” he announced, weakly between ragged breaths. He began to push off the boulder but was gently pushed back down by Clarke’s firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up into her blue eyes and was struck by how they sparkled in the light, like the ocean, he thought, the water bobbing and swirling in the wind, shimmering under the dazzling sun.

He’d seen it of course, in pictures and vids on the Ark. Great crashing waves of blue and green, the push and pull along the grainy sand, the vast endlessness that seemed to stretch far into the sky.

He’d finally seen the real thing while on a mission for the Council with Lincoln and Octavia, the three of them mapping out the surrounding area as far as they could. It had been beautiful, majestic, and absolutely terrifying.

Much like the eyes of this woman who would sometimes visit his dreams.

She pulled a leather strap from around her neck and held out her waterskin.

He stared at it, licking his chapped lips unconsciously. His parched throat and dry mouth begged him to take it, but he shook his head, looking away. “We should save it.” He stood again, stepping away from the girls.

“Bellamy.”

He was trying hard to hide it. All of it. The thirst, the pain, the exhaustion. They needed to get home, and he refused to slow them down, refused to put them in danger. “It’s fine, Clarke,” he answered dismissively.

“ _Bellamy_.” It came out sharp and angry this time, and he could hear her footfalls behind him, coming up fast before stopping him with a firm grip on his bicep. She pushed the waterskin to his chest and, once again, he could only stare at it.

“It’s not like we won’t come across anymore.”

His eyes traveled up slowly to her worried face, the tenderness there making him ache in a way that hurt far worse than the physical pain that tore at his body.

He’d missed her. Everything about her. And now he was so confused about how he was supposed to handle that.

“Please take it,” she pleaded, softly. “We’ll find more, I promise.”

xxxxxxxxx

“What do I call you?”

He’d been concentrating on walking. Putting one foot in front of the other, because that was the only thing that seemed to keep him from falling down. No thinking about the distance, or the people waiting for him at home, or Octavia searching for him in these dangerous woods, just his feet, one then the other, right and left, until he became almost completely zoned out. Mind blanking in a sort of blissful state of otherness.

“What?” he asked, the fog that had surrounded him dissipating at the voice, and the pain returning in full swing.

Lainey slowed her pace so she could walk beside him. She carried multiple packs on her person, leather straps and thick twine crisscrossing her chest and back. Bellamy eyed the heavy weight that his nine-year old daughter was bearing, grinding his teeth at the one miserable thing Clarke had allowed him to hold – her waterskin.

“What do I call you?” she repeated.

“Why don’t you let me carry some of that,” he said, ignoring her question.

She frowned, looking down at her bags. “No,” she said with offense. “I’m walking faster than _you_ are.”

Her furrowed brows and pursed lips were adorable, and a chuckle rose from somewhere deep within him – somewhere only she seemed to be able to access. The laughter knocked his ribs together, stabbing his insides like a blade and it fucking _hurt_. He winced as he held his chest tighter, gritting his teeth to keep from laughing again at the ridiculousness of it.

After the wave passed he looked back down, Lainey’s face a mask of worry. Though instead of worrying about his pain, the look she gave seemed more to do with worrying that perhaps he was losing his mind because of said pain.

“You’re right,” he agreed, with a grin. “You’re a hell of a lot stronger than I am.”

She shrugged her shoulders, her expression relaxing. “You’ll be strong soon. You just need rest.” Her eyes roamed the cuts and bruises that marred his face. “Probably lots of rest,” she muttered.

His brows lifted as he nodded his head. “You’re probably right.”

They were silent as they continued on together. It was a comfortable silence that he was more than happy to use to study her; her long hair flowing down her back like a black waterfall past her shoulders, silky and straight, it reminded him of Octavia’s, especially with the braids that held it away from her face. Her face, it was round in shape, something she’d inherited from Clarke, and though she was already nine, she still seemed to have a baby-face that made his heart squeeze inside his broken ribcage.

He tried to imagine what she’d looked like as a baby, as a toddler, tried to imagine her first words, her first step. They were things he’d always hate himself for missing, because he could have had those moments had he done what he desperately wanted to do and gone after Clarke. But he didn’t, and now he’ll always regret that decision.

But she was here _now_ , and he wasn’t going to waste anymore time.

“You can call me whatever you want,” he said, finally answering her question from earlier.

She looked up sharply, surprise written across her face.

“I mean, I’m partial to dad but… if that makes you uncomfortable, Bellamy’s fine too.”

He tried to appear stoic as he waited with baited breath for her answer. He couldn’t look at her, terrified that if she were to see the importance in which he held this moment, it would frighten her. Instead he caught Clarke’s eye, her blonde head turned behind her with curiosity before she quickly looked away again.

“Nontu.”

Bellamy smiled at that, relieved and amused all at once.

“It means father,” Lainey explained.

He supposed he could tell her he knew that already, but then he’d have to tell her _how_ he knew that and perhaps that’d be a conversation better left for another time. So instead he nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I like it. It’s perfect.”

She gave him a toothy smile before running ahead a few feet, deftly hopping atop a log then just as nimbly jumping off of it again. He was fairly impressed because of all the aforementioned weight of the packs she carried.

“Now you’re just showing off,” he said, shaking his head, barely able to hobble from step to step without tripping over himself.

“That’s nothing,” she called back. “I can climb too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And I’m good at it. Unlike some people.”

Clarke scoffed from up ahead, looking back momentarily at her energetic daughter. “Not all of us are monkeys.”

Bellamy smiled at her drolly. “Don’t tell you fell from a tree, Clarke.”

She turned suddenly, standing her ground as she eyed him, but he continued moving forward, getting closer with every step.

“I did not… fall very far,” she answered, the indignant force of it petering out.

He didn’t say anything, only smirking at the image of her trying to climb a tree while her agile daughter waited impatiently for her at the top.

“Smirk all you want, I doubt you’d do any better,” she gibed.

“Hey,” he countered, putting a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended at her remark as he stopped just in front of her. “I happen to be a fantastic tree climber.”

The heat from her body swept across him, oppressive and thick. It burned his skin as it enveloped him and he knew he needed to step away before it began to boil in his blood, bringing forth _certain_ memories he didn’t want to remember – couldn’t _allow_ himself to remember. Like the feel of her skin pressed tightly to his, or her beautiful hand as it wrapped around him firmly, working him skillfully till he damn near fell apart.

The lure of her and everything she was, everything _they_ were, was overwhelming in his weakened state and he couldn’t fight against it, against himself.

When her eyes flitted to his lips he could feel the prickling on the back of his neck and the adrenaline as it rushed through his veins and he was terrified of her, of what seeing her day after day would do to him.

And she could see it.

“You’re a liar,” she said, softly.

He blinked in surprise, leaning away from the wounded look in her eyes. It wasn’t his job to save her anymore, to put her above all others. Priorities had shifted after she’d left them, and she would soon have to realize there was no going back to what they were before.

“We can have a race if you want. Then you can prove how good you are.”

Lainey’s voice broke the heavy silence, sufficiently ending their simmering staring contest.

“When you get better, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy answered, stepping around the woman in front of him, leaving her behind, to catch up to his daughter. “We should do that.”

xxxxxxxxx

“You can stop staring at me.”

Clarke knew he was watching her. Could feel his gaze as it roamed her back, trying to burn a hole right through her heart. _But you’ve already taken care of that yourself._

She heard him exhale and she shivered, a feeling she refused to acknowledge whispering down her spine at the sound.

She squirmed in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position at the sharp, rocky mouth of the cave. They had found it as the sun was setting, a blessing, as she could already smell the rain that would be coming soon and she’d much rather sit her butt in the uncomfortable cave than underneath the pouring shower.

Expectantly, she sat, the sound of thunder rolling ever closer, flashes of lightning seeming to freeze time itself whenever it briefly lit the dark world around her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him come up beside her, carefully making his way to the ground with only a small amount of difficulty. She should’ve helped him, but she was too ashamed to even look at him.

They sat there in companionable silence, waiting together for the coming storm.

“You should be sleeping,” she said, her voice hoarse with the emotions that were practically spilling out of her.

Lightning flashed again, shooting across the sky in a long vein behind the canopy of trees, foreshadowing the crash to come.

“Kind of hard to sleep when it feels like my body’s just slammed into the Earth after falling from the sky.”

With a tilt of her head, she rolled her eyes at him, and he gave her a sheepish grin that tugged at the corner of her own lips, but she refused to give in. “If you would let me give you some medicine you probably _could_ sleep.”

His smile melted away and he shook his head. “No.”

“Bellamy-“

“What if something happens, and I’m too out of it to barely move.”

“You’re barely moving now,” she said as kindly as she could, but she could see how much it bothered him, how much it hurt as he ducked his head down, avoiding her eyes. “You need sleep, Bellamy.”

His whole body seemed to sink in on itself as months of torture were finally taking its toll.

“Bellamy,” she started again softly, but unsure of what else to say.

“I can’t,” he croaked, his voice swollen with shame. The expression on his closed face was heartbreaking and her first instinct was to comfort him, to touch him. She wanted to, so much. But for him, she knew, it would only make things worse.

He didn’t want her touch.

Another rumble of thunder growled deep and low as it reverberated through her very core.

“She follows me. In my dreams. She’s always there.”

He said it so quietly she nearly didn’t hear him. The tone of absolute terror and hopelessness made her shiver once again, though this time for reasons completely different, feeling like the icy fingers of this crazed woman herself were skimming down her spine.

“She won’t find you,” Clarke stated, firmly. “I promise.” She stared hard at his profile, but he continued to watch the trees as they blew violently in the cool wind.

“What happened?” she questioned, unable to keep herself from asking any longer. “Why does she want to hurt you so much?”

The sudden torrent began, then. The downpour falling fast and hard. A light mist of water made its way inside the cave, clinging to her skin and dampening her hair.

Bellamy turned to her, face hard and seemingly recovered from his bout of angst. “It’s complicated,” he finally answered, throwing her own words back in her face.

Tears gathered behind her eyes, desperate to fall and mix with the rain on her cheeks. She pressed her lips together, nodding her head in understanding. Then giving him a tight smile, she stood and walked back further inside.

xxxxxxxxx

They were stopped beneath a large tree, taking a small break as Clarke inspected the stab wound on Bellamy’s shoulder.

“I don’t trust this,” she said, thumb rubbing over the cover of sap that Runa had used to seal it with.

Bellamy shrugged his opposite shoulder, pursing his lips. “Feels fine, or as good as can be expected after being stabbed,” he said, dryly.

She sighed at his glibness, looking up to see his teasing smile.

“Did you get that while fighting the bald Trikru man?” Lainey asked from her perch on a low hanging branch, legs swinging back and forth.

Bellamy nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, remorse etched across her face.

Bellamy shook his head with a wide smile as he looked up at her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Lainey beamed down at him and took a happy bite into her apple.

Clarke smiled at the ground, busying herself by returning her medical items into her satchel.

Birds called high above them as the soft breeze brushed through the trees, bringing with it a lush loamy smell that she now associated with spring. Her muscles relaxed and the tight grip she kept on her senses loosened, allowing the idyllic moment to seep within her.

She noticed Bellamy tug on his beard as he stared off peacefully into the woods, the movement making him look like an old man. She snickered.

His fingers halted in their movement and his brows came together as he watched her suspiciously with a small smile. “What?”

She held out a leather bag filled with jerky. “What are you going to do about that?” she asked, finger circling around her own face, trying unsuccessfully to hide her amusement.

His eyes flitted down unconsciously before coming back up to meet hers. “What? You don’t like it?” He asked, taking the small bag of food.

She licked her teeth behind her lips, raising a nervous brow while looking down at the gauze she began rolling in her lap. “Well it doesn’t matter what Ithink,” she said, trying to sound casual, her eyes glued to her task. “It’s about what _she_ thinks.”

He was quiet, probably studying her, trying to understand what it was that she meant. She just needed to know, get some sort of confirmation that this was something she was indeed going to have to live with from now on.

Finally, she heard his sharp intake of breath and she knew he finally got it. Tentatively, she looked up from beneath her lashes and saw his narrowed eyes. He leaned forward slightly and her heart flipped within her chest, her cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment.

“You know, all you had to do was ask,” he said lowly, his words smooth like the silk Theo had once found for her, slipping over her trembling skin.

She swallowed thickly, going back to her gauze. “Didn’t really need to. It was kind of obvious by your reaction to our kiss.” She pulled tight at the end, rolling the fabric securely before tying it off. “I just… needed to know.”

The silence was deafening and she desperately wished to fill it before she screamed. The happy feeling of their previous moment was slowly bleeding out before her, soaking into the soil that was sprouting with new life, leaving the lonely emptiness that was always left inside her.

“I’m sorry.”

It was only two simple words, but they answered her question. And even though she’d had a pretty good idea of the answer already, the confirmation was still overwhelmingly heartrending. She gave him a tight smile, the only kind she could, while trying to keep the hot tears from spilling down her cheeks. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

She pushed the gauze roughly into her pack before standing hastily, gathering the rest of their supplies while calling to Lainey to finish her apple, trying to remind herself that all of this was her own doing.

xxxxxxxxx

They were taking a longer route, Bellamy swearing that it was worth it, that it was safer. The straight shot to Camp Jaha apparently containing a swamp that was full of beasts Clarke didn’t really care to come face-to-face with.

They’d been walking in silence for the past two hours. Nothing but their ragged breathing and sounds of the forest to fill the void. It was like that sometimes, when they were trying to push just a little bit harder, a little bit further. They seemed to be moving faster though – well, Bellamy was moving faster – which relieved her to no end that this trek didn’t seem to be doing any permanent damage to his injured body.

“Clarke.”

She knew that tone. They hadn’t yet talked about his revelation the other day. There was nothing left to say. That and she just really didn’t want to revisit it, the pain too fresh.

“Clarke,” Bellamy called again, breathlessly.

“Don’t,” she hissed, making herself wince at the sharp tone. She didn’t mean for it to sound that way, bitter and angry. She wasn’t. She was just… sad. “I’m sorry,” she said, quickly.

He shook his head lightly, brushing off her unwarranted anger.

She didn’t want this between them, uncomfortable silences and sorrowful gazes. They were friends, partners, and now co-parents. She didn’t need anything else. Or so she would repeatedly remind herself until she believed it.

So in an effort to move on, she did the one thing she absolutely did not want to do.

“What’s her name?” She didn’t look at him when she asked it – couldn’t – because it already hurt too much. And if she was going to try and do this, she couldn’t be looking into his soulful brown eyes that begged for her forgiveness for having moved on, when _she_ was the one that had left _him_ behind.

It took him a moment to answer, probably stunned that she’d even asked. “Echo.”

A sharp pang tightened within her chest and she blinked at the pain, trying to just keep focusing on the beautiful little girl ahead of her.

“She’s a grounder,” he revealed with hesitance.

She wasn’t really surprised, but at the same time she was. And now she had no clue what else to say that wouldn’t leave either of them absolutely miserable.

Friends, she’s trying to be friends.

“A grounder? You _and_ Octavia, huh?” She meant it to be light, but she was afraid it came out more of an accusation. Why the hell that would be, she didn’t know, considering she’d been living as a grounder for the past decade.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

She smiled suddenly at the thought of a safer subject. “Think Octavia’s going to be happy about becoming an aunt?”

She took the risk of looking at him, trying to appear amused and happy, but his expression told her that she should’ve listened to her instincts and continued to watch her daughter instead.

He opened his mouth to speak, to explain something, but seemed to think better of it, or maybe like her, he was just too afraid of the pitfalls of this particular conversation. When the words finally did leave his mouth, she knew why. “Yeah, she likes being an aunt,” he answered in a small voice.

Of course he had children, she thought. Why wouldn’t he? _She_ has children – a _child_. She he has a child. The pang in her chest was becoming too tight. Maybe this trying to only be friends thing was something that should be done in increments.

“You should tell Lainey,” she said with a sad smile. “That would make her really happy.”

xxxxxxxxx

“So I’m the oldest?”

Bellamy nodded, though unsure whether or not he should mention Fay.

“What are they like?”

He smiled warmly, memories of his daughters flashing in his mind. “Well they’re… excitable, talkative. They’ll probably talk your ear off asking you all sorts of questions, telling you all about themselves.” He figured the same would go for him when he got home, but the moment they realized there was someone new to play with he’d be left in their dust as they raced each other to Lainey. “Penny spends a lot of time in the Mech Lab with Raven.”

Lainey furrowed her brows curiously. “Who’s Raven?”

Bellamy began to answer, only to be cut off again.

“And what’s a _Mmmech_ Lab?” she interrupted, testing the strange word on her in her mouth.

He huffed out a soft laugh. “Uh it’s-“

“How is Raven?” Clarke asked from up ahead, her body turned slightly toward him.

He raised his brows. “She’s good. Busy with work, just like she likes it. She’s married.”

Her face lit up, a smile spreading wider than he’d ever seen since their reunion. “Married? _Raven_?” Her eyes were wide with astonishment, and maybe a bit of disbelief. She turned completely around, taking slow steps backwards, continuing to walk.

He chuckled, wincing. “Yeah,” he affirmed. “Kids, too.”

Her hand came up to hold a strap on her shoulder as she shook her head. “Oh my god.”

Her bright smile was the last thing he saw before she screamed and fell.

Adrenalin rushed hot through his veins, evaporating any pain in his body like boiling water. He ran to her without thinking, grabbing for her, only to miss her by mere inches as he landed hard on the ground. He scrambled forward, stopping when he came to the edge of a hole – a pit.

A numbness spread through him as he looked down into the pit, Clarke’s motionless body at the bottom. It was only now he realized that all those years when he’d told himself that she was dead, he hadn’t believed it – not really – because not _once_ did he ever feel the heart-stopping dread that he felt right now.

“ _Clarke_ ,” he yelled down, hoping to see anything to show that she was alive. “ _Clarke!_ ” She laid still through his desperate yelling, not moving an inch. His body was vibrating, his mind was reeling, and his breath came out in sharp spurts while he desperately searched around him for a solution.

He needed to get to her, needed to check that she was alive because there was no fucking way that he was losing her after only having just found her again.

Somewhere in the distance of his consciousness, he could hear Lainey as she called down frantically to her mother, and he suddenly knew what he needed to do.

He took his daughter’s arm, gently turning her to face him. “Lainey-“

“How do we get her out? How do we get her?” she asked, panic lacing her voice as she pulled at his sleeves.

He held her more firmly, a hand cradling her face, trying to ground her in the moment. He needed her composed if they were going to do this. “Lainey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” A tear slid down her cheek, and her eyes begged him for something – for everything. “Lainey, we’re going to help her. We’re going to help her, but I need _your_ help. Okay?”

She nodded with understanding as she inhaled deeply, trying to take control of her emotions.

He squeezed her arm, hoping the gentle pressure offered her a sliver of comfort. His eyes traveled across her chest at the multitude of straps and twine. He released her and began to pull them over her head.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to make a rope.”

He took his knife from the sheath on his leg, cutting the straps from the satchels. He could feel Lainey’s eyes as they watched his every movement.

“How can she climb up if she’s not awake?”

He began to tie the straps together, knotting them tightly. “I’m going to lower you down, then you’re going wake her up. Then I’ll pull you both back up.”

It was quiet for another moment as he worked. His focus entirely on the task at hand.

“What if she doesn’t wake up,” Lainey asked, timidly.

He froze, looking up at the girl before him. Fear and worry marred her features but in her eyes lay a strength that he knew would carry her forward, keep her going when all hope was lost. And even in this chaotic, terrifying moment, he’d never felt more relieved to recognize such a revelation.

“I know who made that pit,” he said. “And I know _why_ they made it. It’s for maiming, not for killing.” He licked his lips, dipping his head to catch her downcast eyes. “She’s going to wake up.”

After finishing the makeshift rope Bellamy kneeled beside the pit, searching Lainey’s frightened face. “Okay, I’m going to lower you down. Hold on tight and don’t let go until you’re close enough to the bottom.”

Her head turned slowly, staring down into the trap that her mother lay at the bottom of. “Don’t drop me,” she pleaded.

He held her arms once more, shaking his head. “I am not going to drop you.”

He helped her over the edge and began to slowly lower her down. His chest stung and a tightness squeezed at his lungs. The adrenaline rush was obviously over and the pain was beginning to reemerge. He clenched his jaw against it, his nose flaring at the burning effort it took to hold Lainey’s weight as he lowered her down, every labored breath like another stab of a knife.

Beads of sweat slid down his temples and neck, and he was fairly certain the black dots that were beginning to cloud his vision weren’t a sign of anything good.

Finally the weight on the rope was gone, and he released a sigh of relief, his arms feeling like jelly. He kneeled down, watching Lainey as she hovered over Clarke. “Lainey?”

“She’s breathing,” she exclaimed.

Another kind of relief washed over his mind as his body sank down. Lainey was touching Clarke’s face, brushing her hand down the side of her mother’s head, as she repeated her name. She began to get more forceful, shaking and yelling.

He could see Clarke as she rolled her head and furrowed her brows, but her eyes stayed shut.

“She- she won’t wake up,” Lainey called up with panic.

He swallowed hard trying to think of something – anything. Maybe he could tie one end of the rope to a tree, make his own way down and try to climb back up with an unconscious Clarke. He growled, aggravated. That plan was unrealistic at best.

Frustration surged in his body as he looked at his surroundings, coming up empty on ideas. “ _Damnit!_ ” He closed his eyes, wiping a hand down his face before looking back down into the pit. “Lainey.” He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but whatever it was Lainey didn’t need to be down there anymore. Like he told her, he knew who made these pits and he didn’t want both Clarke and Lainey stuck down there for any longer than necessary.

Lainey was hastily going through Clarke’s satchels, inspecting tiny bottles and flasks before throwing them to the ground, desperately searching for something.

“Lainey,” he called again, curiosity lacing his voice.

She muttered something that he was pretty sure sounded like ‘sleepy sal’. He frowned, shaking his head, completely at a loss. “What the hell is Sleepy Sal?” he mumbled to himself.

“I found it!” Lainey shouted with excitement, scooting closer to Clarke as she uncorked a small, glass vial. He watched as she carefully brought the vial to Clarke’s face, close to her nose. Clarke’s eyes fluttered open, looking around in disorientation till her eyes finally focused on Lainey.

His body sagged as he exhaled with relief. “Clarke.”

Her gaze drifted up to him and he smiled in reassurance. “Are you alright?”

She closed her eyes, rolling her shoulders and pulling up her legs, trying to asses her injuries. “I think I’m okay.” She took Lainey’s hand, slowly sitting up before standing stiffly.

“Take the rope, I’ll pull you up.”

Clarke turned to her daughter. “Lainey first.”

Lainey began walking up to the rope when Bellamy shook his head. “Let’s get the hardest out of the way first.”

Clarke looked up at him sharply. “Did you just call me fat?”

He huffed, nodding his head slowly. “Yes,” he answered, dryly. “Heavy as a cow. C’mon, let’s go.”

She pursed her lips, eyeing him teasingly. “Never even seen a cow,” she mumbled, taking the rope.

Clarke climbed as Bellamy pulled, both of them grunting and groaning all the way up, till finally she was there. He grabbed her arm, pulling her out the rest of the way, both of them falling back on the ground. They panted as they laid beside each other, waiting for their hearts to stop pounding and their breathing to return to normal. He hurt, everywhere – what was new – but when he turned his head and saw her soft profile, looking up into the sky which they fell from, he knew it was completely worth it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch you this time,” he said, playfully.

The corners of her mouth drifted up slowly till she was laughing and his heart began racing all over again.

He released a final, hard breath before sitting up. “Lainey,” he groaned in explanation, taking hold of the rope once again. He stilled when he felt her cool hand on his. She was always cold, no matter what they were doing.

“I’ll get her,” she said, taking the makeshift rope.

He heard a sarcastic ‘finally’ rise up from the pit and he couldn’t help but chuckle, ribs be damned.

He sighed, looking out at the woods surrounding them with a calm washing over him. They were almost home, maybe two- three days walk and they would finally be somewhere protected. Everyone he cared about in the world would finally be in one place, safe.

A flock of birds took flight, fleeing from their home in a nearby tree. Bellamy frowned, striding closer with caution, trying to see what’d spooked them.

Then he heard the dogs.

His heart stopped and his stomach dropped. He began to back away slowly before his brain was able to override the crippling fear, and he turned and ran toward Clarke. He stole the rope from her hands, pushing her away and began pulling with fervor.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He gave no answer, but he didn’t need to. She looked up sharply when she heard the barking and snarling beyond the trees. “Oh my god. Bellamy is that… is it wha…“

Lainey finally reached the top and Clarke rushed to help pull her out. “What’s going on?” Lainey asked with worry.

Bellamy grabbed Clarke roughly, forcing her to look at him. “You take Lainey and you run-“

“ _No!_ ” She frowned, outrage burning in her eyes.

“Clarke-“

“I am _not_ leaving you!”

“There’s no _time_!” he snapped. He saw it the moment she realized he was right, saw the hopeless despair as it came over her face. “You and Lainey run that way,” he said, pointing to their right. “And you keep running, no matter what.”

“They’re hunters. You know what they’ll do to you.”

“Clarke,” he started, softly, but was unable to finish. He knew he couldn’t say what he wanted – that he loved her that he’s _always_ loved her, and that he was so sorry for the constant battle that was their lives. “You need to go.”

She only nodded, taking Lainey’s arm as they began to run.

xxxxxxxxx

“What are we doing?” Lainey asked between ragged breaths.

Clarke didn’t answer, her eyes searching through the woods behind her as she panted.

“Nomo-“

“ _Shh_.”

They’d been running through the forest for at least a few minutes, and she would’ve kept running if not for the fact that she no longer heard anything, dogs or otherwise.

“We have to go back,” Lainey commanded. Again, Clarke was silent. “Nomon, those were hunters. They’ll _kill_ him!”

Clarke turned sharply, her panic and worry finally boiling over. “Don’t you think I know that!”

A loud crack sounded around them, echoing off the trees, making both of them jump.

Clarke tensed, her muscles tight and ready to sprint at a moment’s notice. “That was a gunshot,” she muttered. There was no more sound after that except for their rapid breathing, and her heartbeat which she was sure anyone close enough could hear as it practically tried to thump out of her chest.

“Hunters use guns now,” Lainey informed, quietly.

“I know.” Unlike grounders who associated themselves with one clan or another, hunters lived in packs, roaming the ground – hunting for people. They were cannibals, but unlike the reapers, they were very much in their right minds. After the fall of Mount Weather they began to use guns unlike the clans who were still stuck in their old ways of thinking. A strong point of contention between her and Theo.

“Nomon-“

Another crack, and they both gasped.

Clarke swallowed hard as her ears strained to hear any hint of danger. Her head flew to the right when she heard the telltale sound of footsteps. She grabbed Lainey without thinking, dragging her to hunch behind a fallen tree. She could hear them coming closer, their boots crunching over the forest floor, slowly, almost cautiously, and her stomach twisted tighter the closer they got.

Lainey squeezed her hand hard and Clarke returned the pressure. They were so close, only a few days away from home. Her _real_ home. Bellamy had asked her if she was ready to go back and she hadn’t known how to answer, so she told him what he wanted to hear. But now, huddled behind a log, hiding from a cannibalistic barbarian, she _knew_ the answer. She wanted to hug her mother after a decade apart, meet Raven’s children, beg Octavia for forgiveness, find out if Monty ever told Miller how he felt, make sure Harper was able to heal from her torture at the hands of the mountain men.

She wanted to go home.

Carefully, silently, she pulled her knife from its sheath, determination fueling her as she slowly rose from her hiding place.

He didn’t see her, facing the opposite direction with his rifle pointed down, oblivious to her and her murderous intent. She would jump him, she thought, take him by surprise, stabbing him in the jugular. Then he turned abruptly, rifle up and pointed straight at her with a speed and skill that made her heart literally skip a beat before she saw it was him.

And everything fell.

“Bellamy,” she cried with shock, standing frozen with her knife.

He dropped his weapon and released a heavy breath, striding up to her. Clarke let go of her knife half a second before he had her wrapped in his arms, his face buried between her neck and shoulder.

She clung to him, fingers sliding through his hair and gripping the black strands. “I thought you were dead,” she whispered into his skin.

She felt his soft laugh and she pressed herself further into him.

“Me too.”

When they finally broke away Lainey stood nearby, a guarded and uncertain expression on her face. Father and daughter watched each other for only a second before Lainey careened into him, arms wound firmly around his middle with her eyes shut against his chest.

He seemed unable to register the embrace at first, hands hovering over her until the disbelief melted away, replaced by a solemn look of gratitude. He placed a hand gently over her mess of hair, the other tight around her back.

Tears burned behind Clarke’s eyes as she watched him lean down, resting his lips atop Lainey’s head. After a moment he looked up to meet her eyes, and for the first time in so long, everything was just as it was supposed to be.

She inhaled slowly, feeling her lungs expand and fill with the clean air around them. “Let’s go home.”

xxxxxxxxx

They shuffled and limped their way up the trail, Bellamy and Lainey on either side of her. Her heart pounded at the sight of the gate, so much sturdier than when she’d seen it last.

They were finally here.

The coil of nerves inside her wound tighter in her chest, almost painful in its tension. Lainey’s hand slipped within hers, making her look down at her daughter, only to see her own nervous fear reflected in the girl’s eyes.

They were finally home, but this was not the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you surprised? Bored out of your mind? Murderous with rage? Let me know! I live for your glorious feedback, lovelies.


	10. A Different Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm sorry for the long wait, you guys, but we are now at chapter 10, yay :)
> 
> If you haven't already, take note of the shiny new tags. They're chock full of spoilers but I thought it best to warn everyone of things to come instead of you being totally blindsided by them.
> 
> This chapter is actually supposed to be much longer but it was just getting out of hand, so there are more reunions on the way. Also, I've come to accept that this is just a giant soap opera, sorry about that, lol.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

The hurry and rush of people was almost dizzying. Hands pushed him down onto the soft bed, and voices commanded he relax so they could check his vitals.

The sudden panic sweeping through his veins was crushing and he fought back as hard as he could. He needed to see Lainey and Clarke. Where had they taken them, he demanded to know. Why had they separated them? The only answers he received were firmer hands to hold him down and pricks of needles piercing his skin.

Soon, the pain and weakness finally overwhelmed his panicked state, and he could do nothing but give in to the exhaustion that lured him down into the soft sheets like a siren’s song.

xxxxxxxxx

Bellamy’s eyelids were so heavy it hurt to open them, but he knew he had to… for some reason. There was something he needed to see, someone he needed to find. Someone needed him. But the flash of light that invaded his vision was too bright, and he quickly closed his eyes against it.

He groaned until he felt the soothing stroke of cool fingers combing through his hair, making him hum with pleasure, nearly lulling him back to sleep.

_Clarke_ , he remembered with a start.

He tried opening his eyes again, slowly this time, gradually letting them adjust. Things soon came into focus, soft edges becoming sharp, and blurred lines becoming clear, until he saw brown hair and brown eyes that were not at all like the blonde hair and blues eyes he’d been imagining.

“Echo,” he mumbled with a weak voice.

The relief that flooded within him at seeing her again after all this time, was only matched in intensity by the guilt he felt for expecting her to be Clarke. He tried clearing away the sudden tightness in his throat but was unable to keep tears from filling his eyes, try as he might.

Echo smiled down softly at him and it was such a powerful little gesture – beautiful, healing, safe.

Swallowing hard, he lifted his hand to touch her, only to be prevented by a tight leather strap around his wrist. He glared down at the offending belt that kept him fixed to the bed.

Echo sat beside him, leaning over to unbuckle the wrist furthest from her before taking his other in her lap, her deft fingers unbuckling the thick leather from around his sensitive skin.

“From what I was told, you weren’t being very cooperative,” she said with a wry smile. She held his hand close, massaging his wrist.

He watched her fingers, focusing on their meticulous kneading of his muscles as he tried to keep control over the emotions playing havoc within him. The tender touch of her skin against his was too overwhelming. “How long was I out?”

Her fingers gently made their way up to his hand and a tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

“Not long.”

He sniffed, finally looking into her serene face and he couldn’t help but lift his hand to it, letting his thumb brush over the apple of her cheek. Her smile grew wider and she turned to kiss his palm.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, hoarsely.

“No,” she whispered, leaning down and kissing him lightly on the forehead. “You’re here, now.” Her lips brushed against his skin making him sigh. “You’re home, now.”

xxxxxxxxx

It was a sort of… _disconnected_ feeling, like she wasn’t really here, like this wasn’t really real. Clarke never thought she would ever be back again, sitting on a chilly metal table inside what was left of the Ark.

She thought of the lush, verdant forest as it surrounded her, the imposing trees that swayed high into the air yet whose strong roots were buried deep in the rich soil beneath her feet. The smell of the ocean, thick with a tangy, organic scent of brine and seaweed. The view of the mountains as they loomed above, so majestic and imposing.

And now as she stared at the grey floor, stained with streaks of brown rust and black scuffs that spoke of heavy age and use, she realized just how bleak and dismal this place she once called home was. The metallic walls enclosed around her, so tight and airless she could barely breathe. How they ever _lived_ in this claustrophobic, lifeless shell, she’ll never know.

“What _is_ it?”

Clarke looked up at her daughter’s wondrous tone.

Lainey stood beneath a small light, gazing up at it with a curious amazement.

Clarke smiled softly at the look of awe on the girl’s face. “Electricity,” she answered.

Much knowledge had been exchanged between Grounders and Arkers within the last decade. Arkers being taught how to survive, and Grounders being taught how to advance. But there were still things neither side had yet to learn or understand, things she’d forgotten she hadn’t been living with for years. Things like electricity.

The door screeched opened abruptly, causing both her and Lainey to jump.

Clarke was too stunned to speak when she saw who stood there, her mouth hanging open as the breath left her lungs in a heavy sigh. She blinked at the burn behind her eyes as only one word came to her.

“Mom,” she cried, softly.

Abby came up quickly, wrapping her arms tight around her daughter. It felt warm, and safe, and so full of love. It was too much and Clarke couldn’t help but cough out a sharp cry, immediately pressing her lips harder into Abby’s shoulder, trying to keep any more from escaping.

Abby’s hand rested firmly on the back of her head, pressing her close to her body. “My baby.”

She could no longer help it, no longer keep everything in. Here, in her mother’s arms, she finally released it all in a downpour of emotions. Abby only held her tighter, whispering soft, soothing words, words that drifted within her mind and eased the ache that she hadn’t realized pierced so sharply within her. An ache of loneliness and regret.

After what seemed like forever, yet not long enough, they pulled apart. Abby smoothed her hands down Clarke’s face, both women looking into each other’s wet eyes.

“Clarke,” Abby breathed in awe, “I missed you so much.”

She could only nod, still too emotional, still too close to the tremendous relief and happiness that squeezed her chest and knotted painfully in her throat.

“Everything’s going to be okay, now.” Abby lifted her brows, her hands squeezing Clarke’s arms a little tighter, almost like she was afraid she would disappear. Vanish into thin air. “I promise.”

While nodding again, Clarke heard a scrape against the floor. _Lainey_ , she remembered. She turned to see that the girl had occupied one of those uncomfortably hard, metal chairs Clarke remembered from her time in school.

She frowned at the sight of her daughter, so real, so vibrant, so alive, sitting there in that stupid chair, bleeding into a memory that was so long ago it almost seemed like a dream. Chess with Wells after class, her medical training with her mother, going through the tables at the exchange desperately searching for anything to draw with, her dad- god, her _dad_. It was all so far away. Another lifetime.

Abby finally took notice of Lainey as well, quickly glancing back to Clarke with knitted brows and questioning eyes.

Clarke licked her lips and swallowed hard against that lump that had yet to disappear. “My daughter,” she announced, much more firmly than she thought herself capable of. “Lainey.”

Her mother’s expression was at first one of shock and Clarke thought maybe a little bit of disappointment. But it was quickly swept away by a bright smile and a kind look as she knelt in front of Lainey.

“Lainey,” Abby asked in a friendly tone.

With her small body stiff and hands wedged tightly beneath her legs, Lainey nodded.

“I’m Abby,” she presented, placing a hand on her chest. “I’m your grandma. Your…”

Clarke watched her mother’s eyes as they traveled over Lainey’s braided hair and plain outfit of animal skins. “She speaks English.”

Abby glanced at Clarke before turning back to Lainey with an embarrassed smile.

Lainey returned it with a hesitant smile of her own. “Grandma.”

xxxxxxxxx

“I’ll take you straight to my cabin,” Abby said, as she ushered Clarke and Lainey down the hall. “We’ll go the back way, try to avoid as many people as possible. I’m sure you’d like some time to clean up and rest before you’re bombarded with people.”

Clarke hadn’t thought too much about it really – the chaos that might ensue with her return. But she was appreciative of her mother’s foresight, not quite ready for the interrogations that she was sure to receive.

As they walked steadily down the never-ending hall, the walls began to feel as if they were surrounding her, cutting off her oxygen and the world outside. Sweat began to form at the base of her neck and she hoped the slight panic attack that seemed to be coming over her wasn’t noticeable.

She felt Lainey squeeze her hand and she looked down, giving the girl a reassuring smile. But then her eyes caught sight of something over Lainey’s head. It only lasted for a second since she never stopped moving forward, but she knew the eruption of emotions it caused within her were going to haunt her for some time.

Through a doorway was Bellamy – only his head, his profile – as he lay in a medical bed. His eyes were closed, his lips moving slowly as he spoke in a soft tone, and beside him, cutting off the rest of Clarke’s view of him, was a woman.

_Echo_.

Clarke could only see her back, her soft brown hair held back by a simple braid, much like her own. Nothing like the intricate designs worn by most grounders. In that fleeting moment, she watched Echo card her long fingers soothingly through Bellamy’s messy hair, and the look on his face, the absolute _contentment_ , awoke something within her, something aggressive and powerful – something that, until that very moment, she hadn’t felt at all, not even after learning about this woman.

_Jealousy_.

It shot through her like a bolt of lightning, eating away at everything else like a plague of locusts.

She continued down the rest of the hall like a zombie, sightless and mindless as the sudden flare of envy took control of her senses, the scene she’d just witnessed, as fleeting as it was, replaying in her mind. It was wrong and unfair to feel this way, she knew it, but nor could she stop it – control it. The most she could hope for was to try and hide it, hope it lessened with time.

xxxxxxxxx

Steam rose from the bath, filling the room with a damp, hazy warmth, easing Clarke’s frayed nerves and relaxing her worn muscles, melting them beneath her dewy skin.

Her eyelids became heavy with the weight of her soothed state after her week long trek of hard walking and worry. She realized that worrying was the only thing she’d done consistently on this damn planet. Over ten years of it had practically stolen her life. She knew it wasn’t over. It would never be over. Life on the ground would never be easy, especially not with children.

She sighed, setting her arms on the edge of the wooden tub. But she could at least take a moment or two for herself though, lounge in a hot bath, something she hadn’t done in… ever.

In Remmick, heating water for baths was a waste of time, and there was so little time for everything that needed doing. Hunting and harvesting, preparing and preserving – simple, yet hard work that was vital to everyone’s survival.

And on the Ark, where everything was regulated from the amount of food given to the time spent on recreational activities, the luxury of a warm bath was not only a waste of time but of resources as well. Hasty, five-minute showers before the water automatically shut off was the norm.

But as Clarke laid back, letting the water envelop her in its lulling heat, she knew this was something she could get used to. If she ever felt like taking the time to boil and carry it all. Her mother had been kind enough to do it for her this time, going on and on about the benefits of a hot bath. It was definitely an experience, she had to agree.

She lifted her legs a little higher, knees poking through the surface, water sloshing softly against the sides of the tub. She rubbed her fingers languidly along the edge of the smooth wood, noting the quality of craftsmanship. It was a wedding gift, according to Abby, from her new husband… Kane.

Clarke grimaced, unsure of how she felt about that. She liked Kane, trusted him to an extent. She knew he was a good leader, a good man, but she had to admit that she felt hurt by her mother moving on, finding love with someone other than her father. Especially with how he died. She’d forgiven her mother long ago and the feeling she had towards her mother and Kane was childish and selfish, but it was still very real, though dulled some by the happiness she saw in her mother’s eyes while the woman spoke briefly about her doting husband and the life they shared.

She leaned forward with her arms crossed atop her knees. She swallowed hard against the emotions clouding her mind and shivered as she felt drops of water slide down her bent back.

Life would be different now, she knew. The memory of Echo’s fingers as they slid through Bellamy’s hair flashed in her mind before she quickly pushed it away. Life was different, but she would have to learn how to live with it.

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke stood quietly within the small cabin, her damp hair heavy on her head as her ears strained for any sound of Abby or Lainey.

She took in her surroundings curiously. The sunlight streaming in through the windows the only real source of light, but it illuminated just enough for Clarke to see how her mother and fellow Arkers had been living. It was sparse and simple, yet so much more personal and intimate than the longhouse she’d been living in for the last decade.

On the far wall was a fireplace with a small bed beside it, and a circular table in front taking up most of the space. She ran her hand across the edge of the table, fingers tracing the intricate designs there.

Kane was obviously gifted when it came to woodworking. She wondered how long it took him to realize his talent.

Looking around at the ceramic bowls, lumpy candles, and wicker baskets, she wondered how long it took for _all_ of them to begin building homes, and furniture, and lives. She felt a pang of regret at having missed it all, the growth and development of her people. She’d had a hand in it, as small as it was, and she wished she could’ve been there to witness it.

Her stomach dropped at the thought, her heart squeezing in her chest. Much like any parent who wished to see their child grow.

A low groan broke through her thoughts, making her head snap to her left. Behind her, a sturdy ladder led up to a loft from where another soft noise floated down. It was like the creak of a wooden chair protesting the weight of an occupier.

“Mom?”

There was no answer as she waited in silence, only the sound of her blood rushing through her veins filled her ears. She took a hesitant step forward, gaze never leaving the loft. “Mom?”

She reached out for a rung, cold fingers curling around the smooth wood as ridiculous visions popped into her head of just what it was that waited for her at the top. She-wolves and cunning, silver-tongued blondes invaded her mind as she cautiously made her way up, heart thumping in her chest.

After finally peering over the edge, her wide eyes closed as her breath whooshed from her lungs in relief. It was Lainey, fast asleep on another, much smaller bed than the one she’d noticed near the fireplace.

After climbing the rest of the way up, she walked lightly to her daughter’s sleeping side, her head bent to keep from hitting it on the low-hanging ceiling. As she kneeled, she began caressing Lainey’s damp hair, a soft smile playing at her lips. Abby had obviously convinced her granddaughter of the benefits of a hot bath as well, though Clarke wondered where she’d taken it.

A beam of light shone on Lainey’s sleeping form, coming in from the tiny window on her left. She looked out to take a glimpse of her new world. Cabins, similar to Abby’s, were lined up and down a wide, dusty pathway leading to Alpha Station, with the tops of even more throughout the camp.

They’d certainly expanded since she’d been home. Perhaps grounders were joining the camp. Thanks to Lainey, Clarke knew of Camp Jaha’s alliance with the Ice Nation, maybe there wasn’t just an exchange of information but of people as well.

She watched the bustle of activity down below, Arkers going on about their lives, walking this way and that, chatting in small groups off to the side. She was happy to be home, yet terrified of the fact that she already felt like an outsider. They were obviously a very different people than when she left. But then again, so was she.

As she glanced from person to person, searching for anyone she knew, her eyes were immediately drawn to a red jacket in the sea of greys and browns. It was moving quickly through the throng of people, paying no mind to those around it, seemingly on some kind of mission that lead straight to Abby’s cabin.

Clarke smiled so wide it hurt but was unable hold it back as she stumbled away, scampering down the ladder as quietly, yet as fast as she could. The door swung open the moment her foot touched the floor, and her blue eyes were met with a pair of frantic brown ones.

“It’s true.”

The smile that had come so readily to Clarke’s face quickly disappeared at the unhappy look of her guest. “Do you hate me?” she asked, tentatively.

The other girl huffed in exasperation before rolling her eyes. Then she was suddenly in action, the floorboards groaning beneath her as she hastily covered the few steps between them and abruptly pulled Clarke into a firm hug.

“That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. Of _course_ I hate you. I hate you for leaving me here with all these morons.”

Clarke laughed out with relief into the red jacket, her fear of this particular reunion subsiding with every second she spent wrapped in these arms.

“I also hate you for not even telling me you were leaving in the first place. But most of all, I hate you for not saying goodbye.” The girl sniffed loudly and Clarke’s heart tore in two.

Her arms held on a little tighter, and she pushed her face into the girl’s shoulder a little deeper. “I’m sorry, Raven,” she mumbled.

“Yeah. Me too.”

xxxxxxxxx

“So, I’m in total panic mode, running as fast as I can, when I finally get there just in time to watch Mitchell throw the switch and… nothing happens.”

Clarke’s eyes went even wider as she grinned at Raven. “What to do you mean nothing happens?” she asked, softly, aware of a sleeping Lainey only a few feet from them.

“I mean, my heart was about to burst from my chest because my children were this close to creating a decent sized crater where Camp Jaha sits, but when he throws the switch and nothing happens he looks over at his brother and says, ‘You miscalculated, you doofus.’”

Clarke snorts before slapping her hand over her mouth, trying to contain her laughter. “Oh my god. That is…”

“Absolutely terrifying?”

“No- I mean yes, but also amazing for a pair of six year olds. They obviously inherited your brilliance.”

“Yeah,” Raven said, dryly, “if only they weren’t batshit insane, too.”

“They don’t sound insane. They sound like typical little boys,” she managed to say with a straight face.

Raven gave her an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look, making Clarke laugh again.

“Okay, little boys with dangerously high IQ’s.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Oh god, don’t let them hear that. They already inherited Wick’s egomania.”

Clarke drummed her fingers on the table. “You do realize that’s _your_ last name now too, right?”

“I know, _Abby_ , thank you for pointing that out. It just- I don’t know. It sounds weird if I call him anything else.”

They sat in silence as Clarke nodded in understanding.

“Besides, it’s not like I _never_ call him Kyle.”

She noticed Raven giving her a sly grin, and she raised her brows. “Oh, well that is… good to know,” she said, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.

As they laughed together in her mother’s warm, tiny cabin that already felt so much like home, a sense of serenity came over her, a sense of belonging. _Perhaps coming home won’t be so bad._

Raven must’ve felt the change too. As their laughter faded out she reached over the table, her hand squeezing Clarke’s arm. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

Tears sprang to Clarke’s eyes but she refused to let them fall. She dragged her tongue across her top lip, trying to regain a semblance of control over the bittersweet feelings inside her. “Me too.”

Silence overtook them once again as the ease and warmth of their friendship filled the small home. She hadn’t had a friend, a real friend, in years. There was never anyone who she trusted enough to truly confide in. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it, hadn’t realized how lonely she was. Not until she found Bellamy.

“Sooo?”

Clarke looked up to see Raven coolly resting her chin in her palm, her brows raised in question. Her eyes went from Clarke to the loft, then back again. When Clarke still refused to give in Raven clicked her tongue with disappointment, dropping her arm on the table with a light thud. “Oh, come on. I told you about my crazy kids. I’m sure Lainey is an angel compared to them.”

“Um, not really an angel,” she answered with furrowed brows and a grin, “but she’s an amazing girl.”

Raven nodded. “That’s all?”

“What else do you want?”

“Well I don’t know, Clarke,” Raven scoffed. “Maybe how about where you’ve been for the last ten years. Or why you even felt the need to stay away for ten years. Or maybe why you left in the first place.”

“I’m sure you know why I left.”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“Raven-“

“It sucks, okay. What we’ve had to do here to survive… it sucks. But we’re not alone. You were never alone.”

Clarke’s eyes snapped to her friend’s, boring into them with just an ounce of the weight of her sins that she carried. “You don’t know what it’s like. You have no idea how much it haunts me, what I did.”

“Clarke, I _know_ that-“

“No, you don’t. That’s just it.” She shook her head unable to truly make Raven understand her reasons for leaving. “You have no idea,” she whispered.

Raven pursed her lips, leaning heavily onto the table between them. “He did,” she said, sharply. “Bellamy understood, and you left him to deal with it alone.” Clarke blinked with surprise at Raven’s critical tone and rapid change of subject. “Speaking of which, I should probably warn you, you’re gonna wanna steer clear of Octavia. You’re not her favorite person.”

Her guilt began worming its way through her, sliding around her stomach and constricting around her heart. “Was it really bad after I left?” she asked with hesitance.

“No,” Raven answered, frankly. “It was hard once we realized.” She shrugged a shoulder. “We survived. Maybe Abby was the worst. Kane and Jackson had a hell of a time trying to keep her in bed after she heard about you leaving. She demanded Kane send the Guard after you. And he did at first, despite Bellamy’s protests. But they never found anything, and eventually Abby understood what Bellamy kept trying to tell her – you didn’t want to be found.”

Clarke nodded, face flushing with remorse. She looked down at the table, eyes tracing the designs Kane had so lovingly etched into it. “And Bellamy?”

Raven sighed. “You know Bellamy. He doesn’t let anyone see what’s going on inside, doesn’t let anyone know how bad he’s hurting. But Octavia’s pretty good a noticing it. Forcing him to deal with it.”

She did know Bellamy, and she knew how much she’d hurt him. Though he seemed to have forgiven her, or at least moved on from the past decisions she’d made, she wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive herself for the pain she’d caused him. Just one of her many wrongs that would forever weigh her down.

“He’s her father,” she whispered so quietly she _knew_ Raven couldn’t have heard it.

“What?”

Clarke cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Bellamy, he’s Lainey’s father.”

The dead silence slowly ate away at her and she couldn’t help but take a peek at Raven’s reaction, her eyes slowly trailing up. The absolute shock on the other woman’s face would’ve been amusing if Clarke hadn’t felt so shitty about the whole damn thing.

“How?”

Clarke caught her friend’s eye and lifted a brow.

“I mean… _when_ \- I-” Raven shook her head, trying to get her thoughts in order before freezing in her seat. “Oh my god, does he know?”

“Yes,” Clarke answered, quickly. “But you can’t tell anyone. Not yet.”

Raven leaned away, crossing her arms with a scowl. “I don’t understand, if he already knows-“ Her eyes opened wide as she finally understood. “Oh.”

“I want him to be able to explain it in his own time.” He deserved at least that, she thought. “Do you think- would she understand that he didn’t do anything wrong? This is my mess, not his.”

Still lost to the shock of Lainey’s parentage, Raven blinked shaking her head slowly. “Echo and I aren’t really what you’d call close, but she seems understanding, I guess, if a little cold. Though…”

“What?”

Raven looked at her over the table, seemingly debating on whether or not to tell Clarke what she really thought.

“She always seems to have this scowl on her face, you know, when she’s walking through camp, like she’s pissed off at the world or something. And when she’s with a group of us, she so stiff and uneasy, like she doesn’t belong and she doesn’t want to. But then Bellamy’s there and… everything changes. She morphs into this other person. A more comfortable person, I guess.” She cleared her throat, looking away from Clarke’s gaze. “The same happens with him, too. He smiles a lot… when he’s with her.”

As painful as this was, as much as she couldn’t stand to listen to it, a masochistic part of her wanted more, wanted to learn everything about this relationship that could’ve been hers.

“Clarke… they’re happy together.”

Clarke nodded, a tight smile on her face. “That’s good,” she managed to say. “That’s good, I’m happy for him. I just- that’s why I was worried. I wouldn’t want this to ruin anything for him.”

Raven’s face took on a look of pity and Clarke had an irrational urge to smack her for it.

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

xxxxxxxxx

Echo slid the razor over Bellamy’s neck with a slow precision, a whispered scraping with every stroke.

“You know, I can do this myself.”

Water splashed inside the tin pan as she washed the blade. “I don’t trust you with sharp objects.”

She continued her work, pulling the blade carefully over his chin, blatantly ignoring his look of offense.

“Now, your sister…”

He grabbed her hand, halting her progress and looking her straight in the eye. “I can hold my own against Octavia.”

She smiled wryly before clearing her throat, a look of seriousness quickly planted on her face. “Of course you can.”

He watched her for a moment before finally releasing her with a playful smile, laying his head back and allowing her to continue. When finished, she wiped his face with a towel then took hold of his chin, taking a moment to observe her handiwork before cleaning up.

Bellamy clenched his jaw, trying to sit up without jostling his ribs. Though the pain relievers they were regularly shooting him up with worked wonders, there was still a bit of an aching sting if he moved too quickly.

“Where is she?”

He hadn’t asked yet because he already knew what the answer would be. But he couldn’t continue to ignore Octavia’s absence while still talking about her as if she were right there.

Echo shook her head, keeping herself occupied. “I don’t know. She’ll return soon. She always does.”

“Fay’s with her?” he asked, watching her with a sharp eye.

“Of course. She’s her second. Lincoln, too. Incase you were curious.”

Bellamy took in a ragged breath, closing his eyes against the agony of fear and worry. It never seemed to end when it came to the people he cared about. They were out there looking for him, needlessly putting themselves in danger and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“You shouldn’t have let them go.”

Echo froze, her dark eyes locking with his own across the room. “Your sister does what she wants. I’m not her keeper. And neither are you.”

“And Fay?”

“Is old enough to make her own decisions.”

“No, she’s not,” he retorted.

Bellamy watched patiently as she crossed her arms, her gaze dropping to the floor. Finally, she strode to his bedside, gently grasping his forearm.

“We’ll just have to continue to disagree about that.”

Even the painkillers couldn’t numb the torment that came from the not knowing. “They shouldn’t be out there,” he whispered.

“They’ll be okay. You have to believe that you raised them to be strong enough to care for themselves, because you will not always be there to protect them.”

His stomach suddenly twisted when he realized he’d neverbeen there to protect Lainey. He wondered if there had been times when she needed him, times when he could’ve helped her, cared for her, and he wasn’t there.

He sighed. He had no idea how to bring up Clarke, much less Lainey. Blurting it out seemed cruel while explaining beforehand only sounded like he was giving excuses. Either way it was going to be painful, and he dreaded the conversation.

Bellamy licked his lips, unsure of what he was going to say exactly, only filled with the determination to say it. But before he could open his mouth a soft knock came from the doorway.

He raised his brows, smiling at his visitor. “Miller.”

Miller gave a nod, a smile of his own playing on his lips. “Hey.” He still stood in the doorway, looking inside the room timidly. “Your doctor said I should give you a few more days.”

Bellamy shook his head with a chuckle. “He’s an idiot. Come on in.”

He watched as Miller entered, an awkwardness hovering between him and Echo as they greeted each other with forced, yet polite smiles. Bellamy hated the invisible wall that seemed to exist between his life with Echo and his life with everyone else. The only people she was close with was Octavia and Lincoln.

She was like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. He wanted her to fit, felt bad that maybe he pushed for it a little too hard sometimes, blaming her in his mind for something she obviously wasn’t doing intentionally.

She took up a spot by the far wall, folding linens that lay haphazardly atop a chair.

“How’re you doing?” he asked.

Miller chuckled. “Aw, man. I should be asking you that.”

“What, me? I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Miller remarked, sarcastically, his eyes roving over Bellamy’s battered face, “I can see that.”

Bellamy gave a short huff of laughter. “I’ll be okay.”

“Never doubted it.” Miller pushed his hands inside his pockets, taking a deep breath. “So, Monty and Harper want to know when you’ll feel up for a little get-together.”

“A party?” Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy noticed Echo’s hands falter.

Miller shrugged. “Sort of a welcome home thing. For you and Clarke.”

The sudden silence hung heavy in the room at the mention of Clarke.

Bellamy’s eyes trailed slowly back to Echo. Watching with concern as she stood motionless for a moment, finally releasing a quiet sigh before resuming her work once again.

She knew who Clarke was – everyone knew who Clarke was – but more than that, she was one of the few people who knew what losing Clarke had truly done to him.

When she’d first arrived at Camp Jaha, only a month after Clarke left, she’d come as part of an entourage of the Ice Nation emissary. Bellamy had recognized her immediately, their eyes connecting across the meeting room while their leaders discussed terms.

But they hadn’t said a word to each other, and she’d left with her people two days later. He was certain he’d never see her again, and he’d wondered why that bothered him so much.

The people of the Ice Nation came and went as the months went by, some of them deciding to stay as the ties between their two people became stronger.

Camp Jaha began tilling fields just beyond the camp walls, building more and more cabins, expanding and pushing out further, pushing the limits of their boundary against Trikru. And as he labored alongside his people, constructing new lives and trying to establish themselves on the ground, Clarke was never far from his thoughts.

There was no moping or brooding, he was too damn busy for that. But late at night, when it was quiet and dark, he would allow thoughts of her to seize his mind. Where was she, he wondered? Was she safe? Was she alive? Did she need him? He was a broken record of angst and worry inside, and it literally felt like it was eating him alive.

Echo returned during the winter – their second winter on the ground. And the weather was just as hellish as the first, though with the help of the Ice Nation, much easier to deal with. Thankfully, no one had died from the freezing temperatures that year, and Bellamy had been grateful for that.

They’d see each other throughout camp, he and Echo, eye contact being their only acknowledgement of one another. He didn’t want to speak to her, didn’t want to reminisce, or hear her gratitude, or listen to her ideas on the new truce between their two nations – because he was absolutely terrified by how much he _did_ want those things.

If he got too close, he knew he could drown in her, and he was already barely breathing as it was.

But all that changed when she cornered him in an empty room inside Alpha Station.

It was a shock to see her standing there, tall and statuesque, emanating confidence like the sun emanated heat, leaving him feeling nervous and unsure of what to say. But it turned out he didn’t need to say anything because within a second she practically threw herself at him, fusing their lips and capturing his bottom one between both of hers.

He’d been too stunned to reciprocate at first, but that didn’t last long before his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her as close as he could get her.

She wasn’t Clarke, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t even think of her. As Echo pushed him up against the wall, nipping at his lips while his hands roamed over her layers of warm clothes, trying desperately to find skin, Clarke wasn’t there.

Her voice, her eyes, her memory had all but disappeared. And it cut him deep to admit how fucking _good_ it felt to let her go. If only for a moment.

After, while he and Echo laid beside each other panting, his skin so hot he still couldn’t feel the freezing cold of the floor, he wondered why he’d been living like a goddamn monk for over a year. He swore then and there that he was done waiting, he was done waiting for someone who was never coming back and who had never wanted him in the first place.

As his fingers skimmed down Echo’s smooth hair and over the soft skin of her back, she asked him outright about the woman that had him so afraid. He’d thought about denying it, maybe trying to make her forget she’d even asked as he made her moan his name instead, but in the end he _wanted_ to tell her. He wanted to tell someone, to confess how much it hurt to be left behind after giving so much, whether he believed he deserved it or not.

And for the first time, he finally revealed he was in love with a girl who he knew would never love him back.

“Ask me to stay,” she’d whispered, her warm breath fanning across his face.

He stared into her brown eyes, so deep and dark, but bright with intelligence, and he made a choice. “Stay.”

Bellamy cleared his throat, turning away from Echo. “The party might have to wait. I don’t think Dr. Daly would approve,” he joked, grinning at Miller, trying to keep the sudden weight of the moment from showing.

“I’ll let ‘em know. Dr. Griffin doesn’t seem to wanna let Clarke out of her cabin, anyways.”

Bellamy frowned. “Why?”

Miller raised his brows, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s afraid to leave. It was a bit of a circus when you guys came back.” He inhaled sharply, gently squeezing Bellamy’s shoulder. “I’ll see you. I just wanted to come check on you. Let you know we’re all waiting for you to get back to work and boss us around.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy laughed. “I’ll see you later.”

He watched the doorway after Miller left, trying to gather his thoughts before facing the woman at the foot of his bed.

“I already knew she was here.” Bellamy turned towards her sharply. “It’s all over camp. The infamous Wanheda has returned.”

“That’s not what she is,” he muttered. Grounders began calling her that soon after she’d left. If she wasn’t Klark kom Skaikru, she was Wanheda. When he finally learned what the hell it meant he felt a surge of rage. Whether they meant it as a compliment or not, he knew exactly how it would make her feel. He’d hoped that wherever she was, she wasn’t aware of the epithet.

“I know,” Echo said, plainly.

He sighed up at the ceiling, at a total loss for words. How did he explain the confusing mess of feelings inside him? Should he even explain them? Did she even want to know? “You don’t have to worry about Clarke.”

“I’m not worried about Clarke.”

He watched her as she stood there with such beautiful poise and self-confidence. She was being honest as far as he could tell, Clarke didn’t worry her in the least.

“I’m worried about why _you_ were so afraid to tell me.”

Why was he so afraid to tell her? Was he worried about her anger? Her reaction to Lainey? Or perhaps because the moment they opened up this whole can of worms he knew she’d see the truth, that even though it’d been ten years, his feelings for Clarke not only still existed, but were just as strong as the day she left.

“She has a daughter,” he said, softly, “Lainey.” He licked his lips, watching the mother of his children, the woman that he loved, the woman that saved him more ways then he could count. The same woman he would now have to hurt with his truth, and it killed him inside. But like so often, he underestimated how remarkably astute she was.

“She’s your daughter,” she said, breathlessly.

He blinked at her in surprise, watched as her cool composure slowly melted. She stared at the floor and held a hand to her mouth, almost as if she were trying to keep the storm raging inside her from pouring out.

He wanted to hold her, take away the pain that he was causing, apologize over and over until he was hoarse. But he knew none of it would help, right now, none of it would mean a thing.

“I didn’t know,” he rasped, “I didn’t know until I found them.”

She looked up, tears swimming in her eyes and she suddenly smiled, of all things.

“Echo…”

She shook her head, coming up to sit beside him on the bed with a small laugh.

He was slightly more afraid now than he had been only moments before, her response not at all what he was expecting. “What is it?”

She didn’t answer and instead took hold of his hand setting it low on her stomach, gazing down into his shocked face. “You won’t have to wait so long to find out about this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who catches my very small (blink and you'll totally miss it) X-Files reference.


End file.
